


Vale of Plenty

by EvilFriendOfMine



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Depression, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Narry - Freeform, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Soldier AU, War AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 76,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15513474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilFriendOfMine/pseuds/EvilFriendOfMine
Summary: After their last tour with the British Army, Harry’s ready to start his life with Niall, but when Niall leaves and goes back to the war, Harry’s life falls apart. His time alone in their conservative town is anything but smooth as he starts working at a bar in town and has to socialize with the locals.Months come and go, until a disturbing and heartbreaking phone call leaves Harry even more broken and alone, and he’s left to deal with the consequences of Niall leaving.Niall is injured severely. He’s lost his leg. He’s covered in scars. He hates his life, hates Harry, and is angry at the world…but Harry just wants him back.





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the1dCollab with beautiful artwork done by @ingahansenn on Tumblr! I could not be more thankful to Inga for working with me on this project! <3
> 
> WARNINGS!!  
> This fic does contain Rape/Non-Con scenes as well as heavy mental issues including suicide attempts and PTSD. This is a dark one guys so use your best judgement as to whether it's a good idea for you to read. I want the best for all of you and for you to be happy!
> 
> Fic title from the "Black Hawk Down" soundtrack, "Vale of Plenty". 
> 
> Chapter titles are all from "The Pacific" soundtrack. 
> 
> *I got a comment asking about whether the rapist in this fic is one of the boys and it is NOT one of the boys it's a made up character in case anyone was worried*
> 
> Thank you!

_The sun beats down, relentless and hot against their backs. Harry keeps his head on a swivel as the rest of the men get out of the Humvees behind him._

_He sees Niall out of the corner of his eye._

_“Hazza,” Louis says. “Take point.”_

_Harry gives a quick nod before he shuffles, staying low, to the head of the men._

_Routine operations don’t usually call for this; running headlong into some back alley after an indeterminate number of hostiles. One second, they’re running a checkpoint and the next they’re in the Humvees and chasing after people who are shooting at them._

_Sweat runs down Harry’s back. He feels it as he sticks close to the wall. A parked car sits a few feet ahead and Harry puts his fits up to signal the others to hold up. The alleyway gets narrower up ahead. Rooftops perfect for an ambush, but he doesn’t see anyone._

_If they come at them from either side from the rooftops, they’ll be pinned down with hardly any cover.  There’s more cover on the other side of the street._

_“What’s up?” Louis says from behind him. “You see something.”_

_“I don’t see anything,” Harry whispers. “We should go back.”_

_“Orders say we have to go in,” Louis says._

_Harry knows that Louis thinks that’s shit; most of their orders are._

_“Stay here.” Harry keeps his eyes on the rooftops. “I’ll go across, try to draw them out. Cover me.”_

_He catches Niall’s blue eyes staring back at him when he turns, Liam’s crouched down just behind him._

_“You sure about this?” Louis asks._

_“Not really.” Harry takes one last look up before he runs up to the boot of the car parked in front of them, looks across the way toward the opposite wall and the small barrier._

_He stays low to the ground, but before he even makes it halfway, he sees the shadow pop up from above him._

_Shots echo out. From his own men, from the hostiles._

_The pain doesn’t hit him right away. He falls to the ground. He hears voices amidst the gunfire. He hears his name in muffled noises around him.  He hears Niall’s voice._

 

 

Harry wakes with a start, when he feels Niall’s hand nudge his leg.  “We’re almost there,” he says. Niall’s bright blue eyes calm Harry almost immediately.

Niall rests his head against Harry’s shoulder, pulling at the collar of his Army uniform. 

He’s been uncomfortable since they landed back in England and Harry doesn’t blame him.  It felt more foreign than the foreign countries they’d been fighting in over the last four years.  But that’s all behind them now, or so they hope.

Harry looks across the aisle and catches Liam’s eye and Liam gives him a small smile.

They sit quietly on the bus watching the trees blur on the sides of the road.  Harry sits next to the window watching as the trees turn into blurred houses and business. He feels his heart skip a beat when his surroundings become more familiar. Streets he recognizes; the names of businesses…names that he’d forgotten after being gone for so long.

They finally get to go home.  Four years in the Army and now, they get to be civilians again.  Of course, a good handful of the rest of the men on the bus with them where already planning to go back. Two weeks of R & R before they get shipped back.

Harry’s tired though. He’s ready to get back to just being Harry instead of Private Styles.

When the bus stops, they all stand and pick up their duffle bags, slinging them over their shoulders before they exit the bus.

Harry sees his mum and his sister, Gemma, as soon as he steps onto the sidewalk. He walks toward them, dropping his bag on the ground, and wraps his arms around them.

Liam’s sister Ruth is standing just beside them smiling when Liam finally shuffles off the bus. 

It feels strange.  Like he hasn’t had human contact for all the time he’s been away.

As soon as they let go, Anne sees Niall and gives him a warm hug, while Gemma grabs Liam after Ruth finally lets go of him.

“It’s good to see you boys,” Anne says, stepping back from Niall to get a better look at the three of them.

Harry’s hair was longer the last time that she saw him.  He’d grown it out while he was home after their last tour, but now it was shorter, shaved on the sides, while keeping a little bit of length on the top. 

Niall’s hair lost a lot of its blond since then as well. She could only see it on the top of his hair now from where it had grown out and he got it cut off.

 

Ruth takes Liam back to her house and Harry and Niall go with Anne and Gemma.

Harry tries to answer his mum’s questions as they drive home.  Niall’s quiet as he stares out the window.  He hadn’t said much in a while and it’s putting Harry on edge.

Their house is just as Harry remembers it but it almost feels like an old picture of a place long left behind. 

He remembers the day they signed the papers. They were twenty and stupidly in love.  They knew it wasn’t much. A single story house with one and a half bathrooms, one bedroom, with an extra bed in what was in the room they used as a studio for Harry’s photography stuff and Niall’s music. 

Stepping inside feels like when they first bought it. Everything seems familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time.

“Did some shopping so you boys are all set until you can get there yourselves,” Anne says.

Harry thinks she notices Niall’s silence through all of this, and maybe his own as well.

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly as he sets his duffle next to the couch.

“Alright, well they are having a big welcome home party at the lodge for all of you tonight,” Anne says changing the subject.  “We’ll let you boys get settled and we’ll meet you over there later?” Anne gives Harry a worried look.

“Sounds good, mum,” Harry forces a smile.

Anne hugs him again. “We missed you so much, Sweetheart,” Anne says and she steps back, cupping Harry’s face between her hands.  She looks at him for a moment before she finally drops her hands. “So, call if you need anything or if you want us to give you a ride over to the party.”

“Will do,” Harry says.

As soon as Anne and Gemma leave, the house feels utterly quiet and the two of them just stand there for a long moment until Harry reaches out and grazes Niall’s arm with his fingers to get his attention.

“Hey,” Harry says lightly when Niall looks up at him. “We don’t have to go back to normal, alright? It’s gonna be a bit weird to begin with.”

Niall gives a faint smile and Harry wraps him in a big hug, holding Niall tight to him, until Niall’s holding him back.

“I love you so much,” Harry whispers.

“I love you too,” Niall says, burying his face into Harry’s neck.

 

Harry stands in front of the dresser in his and Niall’s bedroom.  Niall’s in the shower and Harry didn’t miss the sound of the door locking when Niall went into the bathroom.

Harry pulls the small key out of his pocket and unlocks the small wooden box that sits on top of the dresser.  He pulls out a silver-chained necklace; at the end of it dangles a gold band ring.

He examines the ring, turning it over in his hand.  The inscription _To Harry Love Niall_ etched inside the thin band. Harry clenches his fist around the ring and he can feel the tears stinging the back of his eyes.

They’d left so much uncertain when they left for their last tour. They still had one more tour to do before they were out and Niall proposed to Harry nonetheless. Things were good then, but after this tour, things are different.  Harry can feel it…they all can feel it.

He blamed the awkwardness on Niall’s silence when really he didn’t want to talk either. It isn’t like being away at school or summer camp, where you come home and tell your family about all the fun things you did.  They were away killing people in some far off place for god and country.

Harry is okay with the idea of being home, but everything just seems old.  Not in the sense of decay but of distance.  The idea of getting his _old_ job back at the newspaper. His and Niall’s _old_ relationship. The way they _used_ to be. The people they _used_ to be. 

Harry looks at the ring again.  He remembers the day he put it away before they left again. He’d talked about it with Niall about not wanting to lose it, not wanting to explain it away to anyone who asked or ever saw the inscription.

So, the Army doesn’t know that Niall and Harry are in a relationship…It went further beyond any notion of “don’t ask, don’t tell”. It became an issue of priority.  If the army thought for a second that either of them would try to save or protect the other instead of doing their duty, they’d be put into different units. So, for the full year they are gone, they aren’t technically together. They keep their hands off each other and promised not to take priority if either of them were wounded during a firefight.

As far as the British Army is concerned, they are just two men in the same unit, who own a house together…a house with only one bedroom, but the Army doesn’t need to know that.

Harry takes the ring off the chain though…he adds it to the ID tags dangling from his neck and tucks it under his shirt.

“Baby steps,” he whispers to himself just as he hears the shower turn off.

Harry sits down on the edge of the bed and starts unlacing his boots and unbuttoning his uniform.

Niall walks in moments later with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair sitting flat against his forehead.  “Forgot how nice that shower is,” Niall says as he goes to the dresser.

Harry can’t help but look Niall up and down as he stands with his back to Harry. 

He can see the tan lines on Niall’s arms against the paleness of the rest of his body. He sees the scars on Niall’s back from a car that exploded during what started out as a surveillance opp.  The injury wasn’t that bad, and it was only about a two months later that Harry got hit in the shoulder.

Old wounds from old memories. 

“How long do you think this thing is going to be tonight?” Niall asks as he sets some clothes down on the bed beside Harry.

Harry shrugs and Niall looks disappointed. 

“Niall, we haven’t been home in a while. My mum…Gemma, they just want to spend some time with us.” Harry watches Niall for any sort of reaction.

“Spent a year getting shot at and blown up, but yeah, let’s have a party…” Niall says and he quickly grabs his clothes and goes back into the bathroom, once again locking the door.

Harry sighs and starts looking through the dresser to find something to wear.  He wasn’t in the mood for a party either, but he gets it. Their friends and family just want to celebrate them coming home and it isn’t just about Harry and Niall but the rest of the guys too.

Harry gets dressed and goes out to the living room, when there’s a light knock on the front door, but Harry can see Liam standing on the other side of the screen door, so he waves him in.

Liam looks awkward standing there with his hands in the pockets of his civilian clothes.

“How’s it been so far?” Liam asks while Harry moves stuff around the kitchen.

“With me, Niall, or the fear of this party tonight because I don’t think any of it is going alright,” Harry says.

Liam rubs the back of his neck. “Christ, I figured that you two would already be tearing the bedroom apart by now. What’s going on with Nialler?”

Harry shakes his head. “He’s hardly said a word since we got back. Not too happy about tonight either.”

“Join the club,” Liam says flatly. “Ruth says that they’re making a really big deal about the whole thing.” Liam sits on the arm of the couch. “We get blown up and shot at and now they want to call us heroes.” Liam laughs. “You know damn well Louis would be bitchin’ a fit if he was here.”

“He’d probably pretend to go along with the whole thing and then tell everyone to go fuck themselves or something,” Harry laughs at the image in his head.

“How he ever became a sergeant, I will never understand,” Liam says picking at a loose thread sticking out of the seam of the couch.

The bathroom door opens and Niall comes out fully dressed. “Hey, Payno,” Niall says casually. “What are we talking about?” He sits down on the couch looking between Harry and Liam.

“Discussing how Lou became a sergeant,” Liam says.

“Ah,” Niall says. “Especially after he told off Major Keaton when we were in the middle of that shit-storm they called a ‘routine procedure’.”

Liam laughs. “God, I thought they’d court martial him for sure after that one.”

There’s a pause in the conversation after that and Liam’s words seem to hang in the air.

Liam checks his watch. “If we’re going to this thing we better get to it.”

“Don’t sound too excited there, Payno,” Niall says reaching over to pat Liam’s leg before he pops up off the couch.

Harry’s leaning against the counter in the kitchen and Niall stands in front of him.

Niall gives Harry a strange look. One that Niall only gives him when Niall is about to do or already has done something stupid.

Harry smells the alcohol on Niall’s breath when he leans in to give Harry a kiss on the cheek.

“Well, I’ll drive,” Liam says with a light laugh taking his keys out of his pocket.

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Harry says and Liam gives a quick nod before he goes back outside, the edges of the screen door smacking the frame.

Niall starts to follow, but Harry grabs his arm. “Have you been drinking already?”

Niall gives Harry a look that makes the answer pretty obvious.

“We might not be in it anymore, Niall, but at least have some respect for these people. They’re your friends. They’re your family—”

“No, Harry. They’re _your_ friends and _your_ family. You, Payno, and Tommo are all I ever had, but Tommo’s not here and neither you nor Liam wants to go to this thing any more than I do. So get off your high horse cause if drinking is how I get through this then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

 

When they get to the lodge, Harry walks quietly behind Niall and Liam. It was an awkwardly quiet ride over as Harry sat in the backseat watching everything go by. 

He’s willing and ready to give Niall time and space. God knows this wasn’t easy the other times they came home, but it was never this bad. It was like they forgot how they used to be around each other. Like they woke up with someone telling them they were engaged, but they didn’t know each other at all.

They just need some time. It was a lot of work being next to each other, but still technically apart for all that time. They had to get used to being able to touch each other again. To spend lazy days in bed curled around each other for hours.

Harry can’t blame Niall when Harry is hardly himself either.

They walk in and see tables set up around an open dancefloor. There’s music playing but Harry doesn’t recognize the song.

Anne, Gemma, and Ruth already have a table for them in the corner and they sit down trying to shake off the awkwardness that surrounds them.

They sit for a long while and Harry watches as Niall downs his third beer. Watching…waiting for whatever comes next.

Harry tries to laugh and smile at the men with their wives or daughters out on the dancefloor. He wonders if it’s easier or harder for them.  Harry and Niall’s life together hadn’t really started yet and they couldn’t find a way to fit together again, but the other men look happy and their family overjoyed at them being home.

Harry looks at his mum and he wonders if she knows…if she knows there is something wrong between Harry and Niall.

Maybe this is what happens when you fall in love as kids. Harry was sixteen the first time he kissed Niall. They’d been friends since they were nine years old when Niall moved to Cheshire from Mullingar, Ireland.  He was staying with a foster family then, so Harry’s house was the closest thing to a real home Niall ever really new. 

But Niall was a church doorstep baby. His mother didn’t even bother to remove his hospital bracelet before she dropped him off so he had some sort of backstory, but his mum died from an overdose only a few months later and his father was nowhere to be found, so Niall went into the system.  He was adopted by a young couple when he was four, but for whatever reason, it didn’t work out and Niall’s never said much about it.

Harry looks across the room at a group of older gentlemen who are giving him less than nice looks.  They’re veterans, Harry recognizes most of them, knows half of them by name from endless nights of sitting at the bar in town while Niall worked as the bartender. 

When Niall and Harry started their relationship at sixteen years old, they kept it a secret for the sake of their friends, Harry’s family, and Niall’s foster parents. The town in itself was not very accepting and at this point, the amount of people who knew for certain that the two of them were together, Harry could count on two hands, but many of the other people living in the town suspects that the two of them were together, which most of them didn’t like…at all.

Liam leans over to Niall, “Bressie just walked in,” he says.

Harry looks toward the entrance and sure enough, the six and a half foot galoot is standing there in a t-shirt and jeans, eyes scanning the room until they land on their table and he smiles walking toward them. 

Bressie was a veteran himself, a sergeant in the Army, and owns Camden Pub where Niall works when they’re home. 

Niall pretends not to notice and gets up from the table, going in the opposite direction toward the open bar.

“Sorry, I missed the homecoming,” Bressie says taking a seat next to Liam. “Distributer fucked up the order I put in. Been playing phone tag all evening trying to sort it all out.”

Bressie sits there for a moment trying to not look offended by Niall getting up and leaving the table as soon as Bressie spotted them.

They sit for a while, all of them just listening to the music, watching everyone else laugh and carry on with their friends and families, until Ruth gets up and pulls Liam out onto the dance floor.

They all watch them for a moment and Bressie scooches over so he’s sitting next to Harry.

“What’s going on with the little one,” Bressie asks leaning into Harry, his eyes glancing at Niall, who’s sitting at the bar by himself.

Harry gives a sad look and shrugs. “Been like that since we landed.”

Bressie shakes his head before he gets up, strides across the room toward Niall at the bar.

Harry watches them, Niall looking up at Bressie nodding.

Harry’s utterly thankful for Bressie. Most of the men and women that work at Camden Pub are ex-military. People who had issues finding other jobs when they got home.  But he did a lot for Niall and Harry over the years, which didn’t even start with giving Niall a job as a bartender.

Bressie has a way with Niall that Harry has never seen from anyone else in Niall’s life.  Bressie is like Niall’s older brother. The two of them connected despite their age difference. Before Niall and Harry moved in together, Niall lived with Bressie in the tiny apartment above the bar.

Harry watches Niall talking to Bressie, but then Niall looks sad and starts shaking his head and Bressie wraps his arms around Niall.

Harry has to look away, or better yet, Harry gets up, walks across the room, and back out the front door.

It’s colder than he thought it would be, but the early summer heat hangs in the air.  Harry’s chest hurts. Something in him wants to scream.

He doesn’t even know why he’s so upset. Is it because Niall won’t talk to him but will talk to Bressie? Is it because Niall’s hurting and Harry can’t do anything? Harry’s mind is going crazy, he almost wishes that they were back in the thick of it, getting shot at while buildings explode around them. That hurt less than the reality of real life…or being home.

Harry sits down on the steps leading up to the lodge.

Louis’ voice pops into his head in that moment.  Louis telling him to suck it up, be happy that he’s home, and that Niall’s there with him, even if things are hard, hard is better than getting shot at or being dead.

The doors open and close behind him. “Harry!” Liam yells with panic in his voice. “Need you’re help!”

Harry gets up, rushing back inside the building behind Liam. 

When they get to the main room, the music has stopped, and most of the people are standing, staring at the commotion near the bar, and then Harry sees who the fight is between; Mike Rowlands and Niall. 

Harry pushes his way through the crowd. Bressie’s on the floor rubbing his jaw and Niall is beating the holy hell out of Rowlands.

Mike Rowlands is an idiot they went to school with. He got in his fair share of fights in school and by Harry’s account, he brought it on himself.

 “Niall!” Harry yells. “Niall stop!”

The other men from their unit stand around the scene either hiding their children from it or standing there with hate in their eyes.

Niall hits Rowlands over and over.  

“Niall!” Harry yells, and he does the only thing he can do and grabs Niall from behind, pinning Niall’s arms down before he can pull him off Rowlands.

Niall struggles against Harry’s grip. “Niall stop,” Harry says whispers.

“Fucking jackass deserves it!” Niall yells, lunging toward Rowlands.

“Fuck you, you little faggot!” Rowlands spits out from where he lays on the floor. 

Niall lunges again, and this time gets free of Harry’s hold on him with a hit to the gut with his elbow.

Harry crumples onto the floor, but before Niall can get to Rowlands again, Bressie grabs Niall and drags him away from the whole scene. “Get him the hell out of here!” Bressie calls out, gesturing to Rowlands as he takes Niall through the back exit.

Harry gets to his feet as a few of the guys grab Rowlands and take him outside.

Some of the people start to go back to their seats and the music starts up again, but then Harry sees Anne and Gemma standing there amongst the rest of the people looking at him with sad eyes.

“You alright, mate?” Liam asks.

“’m fine.” Harry turns, wincing a little, and walks toward the front door again.  He finds himself sitting down in the same spot he’d been in before.  For a moment, his mind tricks itself into thinking that he never left that spot in the first place.

His mind shifts back to Louis, who probably wouldn’t had let any of this happen. Louis had a command over them that didn’t have anything to do with him out ranking them.  They always listened to him, which is usually what got them into trouble at school.

Suddenly Liam is sitting down beside him.

Liam doesn’t say anything right away, he just sits there staring up at the darkening sky. “Watcha thinkin’ about?” Liam leans into Harry, giving him a light nudge.

“Louis…” Harry says dully.

“That’s a lot to be thinking about,” Liam laughs. “Anything in particular?”

“How he’d tear me a new one for sitting here moping…That I’m home, so I should be enjoying it. How we haven’t been home for one day and Niall’s already gotten into a fight.”

“That sounds like him,” Liam rubs his neck. “Minus all the swearing, of course.” 

They sit there for a moment, and Liam sighs, looking over at Harry.

“He’ll come ‘round, you know? This last tour was…”

“Awful?” Harry breathes out.

“I was going to say, not the best, but yeah that too. I think we all just need some time, plus without Tommo here, it’s feeling a bit leaderless at the moment. No one to tell us to get our shit together.”

Harry sighs. He’s not the only one thinking that then…

“Rowlands was out of line. Saying a bunch of shit about the war and the army,” Liam says. “If Niall hadn’t hit him, I probably would’ve.”

“And Bressie?”

“Brez got hit when he tried to stop Niall…caught an elbow to the jaw on the wind up.” Liam rubs his neck. “Most of the guys heard what Rowlands said…and then what he said to Niall. Guess they figured the little jackass deserved it.”

It’s quiet until the doors open behind them, they both turn to see Niall looking around, until his gaze lands on the two of them sitting there staring back at him. Niall sighs in relief and walks over to the two of them.

“You alright?” Liam asks over his shoulder.

Niall nods.

“Ready to go home?” Liam says looking at Niall.

Niall looks nervous for a minute. “’s a bit loud. Feel like it’s all a bit—”

“Too much?” Harry cuts in and Niall nods again.

Liam stands, brushing the dirt off the back of his jeans.  “Alright, well I’ll just tell everyone that we’re going take off. We’ll see them later.”  Liam goes back inside leaving Harry and Niall outside by themselves.

Niall drops himself into the empty space beside Harry.

“Brez said that this was probably not the best idea…the whole party thing.” Niall looks sad but still has a bit of anger in his eyes. Bressie must’ve cleaned him up a bit. Niall’s knuckles are still red, but the blood that stained them before in no longer there. “It’s just too soon for some of us, I guess.”

 

 

Liam drops them off at their house and Harry follows Niall up the front porch.

When they get inside, they aren’t quite sure what to do.

Harry can’t pick up his head. He just keeps staring at the ground even after Niall turns around to face him, so it throws him off a little when Niall wraps his arms around Harry, hugging him tightly.

“I’m sorry, Haz,” Niall says burying his face into the cruck of Harry’s neck.

Harry’s arms slip around Niall’s torso and he breathes in Niall’s scent. He smells cinnamon again. Something he hasn’t smelled in so long, but it’s muddled by the faint scent of beer.

Niall pulls away, much to Harry’s dismay.

He wipes his eyes and starts backing up. “I’m gonna…I just gonna sleep in the guest room,” Niall says and he starts walking away.

“Niall…”

“G’night, Harry,” Niall says quickly before he disappears down the hallway and into the extra bedroom.

 

 

Harry lies in their queen-sized bed, which aside from being too soft, is also empty of Niall.

He went to bed around ten and has been tossing and turning for three hours now. He keeps looking at the clock, hoping that it will just magically be six in the morning so he doesn’t have to try to pretend to be sleeping anymore.

Around two a.m., he gives up and gets out of bed. The entire house is quiet, almost eerily.

He walks out into the main room, the only light coming from the microwave attached to the wall above the stove.  Harry walks down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake Niall, but then he notices that the door to the guest bedroom is open and Niall is nowhere to be seen.

Something drops in Harry’s stomach, until he hears something outside the back door.

Harry heads further down the hallway and carefully opens the back door that leads out into their little garden and patch of grass.

Niall’s sitting there on the concrete steps and he jumps slightly when Harry comes out.

“Can’t sleep?” Harry says almost as a rhetorical question.

“The bed’s—”

“Too soft?” Harry says sitting down beside Niall.

“Yeah…” Niall pulls his knees in, wrapping his arms around his legs before he settles his chin in between his knobby knees.

They sit there listening to the bugs making their weird little bug noises while a light breeze ruffles the leaves on their flowering plum tree.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Niall says softly. “Being back here…I feel like I don’t know where to go or what to do.” Niall’s fingers press into his skin like he’s trying to keep himself from leaving. “Before, when we’d come home on leave, I always knew what we were doing next; we’d get to spend some time together and then we’d have to go back, but now, I feel like my entire life is in front of me and aside from being with you, I never gave much thought as to what I was going to do.”  Niall sighs softly and rubs his face. “God, Harry…” he pauses. “We were so young when we got engaged.”

Harry’s stomach plummets; he doesn’t like where this conversation is going. He wants to hold onto Niall. He doesn’t want to lose him, but he also doesn’t want to suffocate Niall either. The question burning in Harry’s mind, is something he needs to know, but at the same time, he might not like the answer to. “So, where does that leave us?”

Niall’s breathing is soft yet static. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “I think it’d be best if we didn’t jump right back into things. Maybe give each other some space for a little bit, while we get situated here.”

“I can stay with my mum, I suppose.”

Niall laughs. “Not that much space, Hazza.” He looks over at Harry with lightness in his eyes. “We were friends first, yeah? Maybe that’s where we start. I feel like if we try to push this then it’s going to burst. I know I still love you…I know I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

Niall gives him a soft smile.

Harry hopes like hell that Niall’s plan will work. A little bit of space might do them good. They can both figure out what they’re going to do now.

“Take two,” Niall mumbles standing up and offering a hand to Harry. “Never gonna get used to sleepin’ in a proper bed if we don’t try.”

Harry takes Niall’s hand. The two of them go back inside the house and to their separate rooms.

Harry lies in the bed, staring at the ceiling for what feels like forever. He rolls over, looks down at the floor, and sighs before he grabs his pillow, pulls the duvet off the bed and crawls onto the floor. A proper bed will have to wait.

 

 

Harry wakes up to knocking at their front door. It’s incessant and annoying, which tells him exactly who it is.

He pulls himself up off the floor and walks out to the living room where he sees Niall curled up with a blanket, sitting in the corner by the kitchen counters.

“What happened to a proper bed?” Harry says casually as he goes to unlock the front door.

“Didn’t work out,” Niall says as he throws the blanket on the floor as he stands.

Harry laughs, shaking his head as he opens the door.

“Good morning!” Nick sings out and he’s lucky that there’s still a screen door between him and Harry otherwise Harry would probably strangle him.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry says walking over to the couch.

Nick sighs, letting himself in through the screen door. “I don’t see you for almost a year, and that’s the greeting I get?” Nick looks at Niall then Harry. “You both look like shite.”

“And you wonder why there’s no warm welcome,” Niall mutters, walking into the kitchen.

“We’re just getting used to having actual beds,” Harry says.

“Not that either of us used them,” Niall says under his breath and Harry looks over at him. “You’ve got the pattern of the carpet in our bedroom going up your arms and legs.”

“Fair enough.” Harry turns back toward Nick. “So, why are you here so bloody early.”

“Harold, I host a morning radio show, early is relative.” Nick makes a vague gesture. “I came by to see you,” he says pinching Harry’s cheek. “And the little leprechaun, of course,” Nick says a little louder looking over at Niall, who flips him off. 

“Anyway, I didn’t get to go to the little party they threw last night for you lot coming home. Got stuck at my mother’s, so I thought I’d come by after the show this morning. So how are things? Good to be home, I suspect?”

Harry shrugs. “Little weird, I guess.” He glances over his shoulder at Niall, who has his back to them. “Just trying to figure things out. Get reacquainted with everything. Trying to take things slow.”

“Sounds boring,” Nick quips.

Niall puts the kettle on the stove top and then disappears into the back room.

Harry looks back at Nick, whose face has fallen as he gives Harry a knowing look.

“That have anything to do with figuring things out and taking things slow?”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his short hair. “It’s all a bit different now. We’re still young, but the last four years…it’s just going to take some time trying to conflate who we were before, with who we were during, and who we want to be.”

“So, not something you can fix with some dirty sex, then?”

Harry shakes his head. “He wants space and time, so that’s what I’m gonna give him.”

 

 

Four days later, not much has changed. Harry and Niall still sleep in separate rooms, neither of them sleeping in an actual bed, but they’ve both been trying to hide that little fact. Trying to pretend like things are getting better; like things are getting easier.

It’s more like the opposite is happening. Niall’s woken up Harry in the middle of the night, shouting in his sleep. Harry’s woken up Niall, every time he tries to leave the house in the middle of the night either to sit outside or go for a walk after not being able to sleep.

Harry wakes up to someone kicking his foot and if the chill in the air is anything to go by, he’s not inside.

He cracks an eye open and sees Liam standing over him with a curious look on his face. Harry rubs his eyes and feels the way the porch railing and the ribbed siding dig into his back.

“When they told us to watch out for each other for weird behavior, is sleeping outside on your porch considered weird behavior?” Liam cocks an eyebrow, putting out a hand for Harry to take.

He lifts Harry off the floor with hardly any effort.

“Went for a walk, must’ve fallen asleep when I got back,” Harry brushes off his sweatpants.  “What are you doing over here so early anyway?”

“Mate, it’s almost ten,” Liam says casually. “Just wanted to come by and see how things were going.”

“Things are fine,” Harry says. He starts walking toward the front door, but Liam doesn’t follow him. Harry turns.

“Thought we could go for a walk,” Liam says solemnly.

Harry nods and instead, walks down the front steps with Liam following behind him.

“So, what’s up?” Harry asks tentatively looking over at Liam.

Liam buries his hands in his pockets. “Murs and Winston are going back, few of the others as well.” Liam stares at the ground. “I felt bad leavin’, ya know? After what happened to Louis.”

Harry nods. He knows full well how awful that whole situation felt.

“I just…I’ve been thinking about it, maybe longer than I’d like to admit.” Liam stops and reaches out for Harry’s wrist to stop him. “I’m going back, Hazza. I can’t stay here knowing that Lou is over there by himself.”

It feels like Liam’s punched Harry in the gut. He doesn’t want to be home without Liam…it won’t be home without Liam. “I’ll go with you,” he says quickly. “Niall and I, we can put things on hold and we can go back with you.”

“Harry, no,” Liam says sternly. “You and Niall…things might be rough right now, but the two of you need to stay here, get back to being together…get back to being in love with each other. You’ve put your lives on hold long enough for this stupid war.  It’s about time you lads actually get to be together.” Liam sighs. “I can’t be here without Lou…he’s my best friend, Harry.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Harry says sadly. “But I understand, I suppose.”

“The British Army screwed Lou over, I’m just going there to bring him back, is all.” Liam laughs.

Harry tries to smile, but he instead finds himself wrapping his arms around Liam. “You’ll come back in one piece, yeah?”

Liam nods. “Absolutely.”

“I can tell Niall if you want me to.” Harry steps back, looking at Liam.

Liam shakes his head. “If he doesn’t take it well, I don’t want you to be on the receiving end of it. He hasn’t been himself lately.”

“He’s angry,” Harry says looking at the ground. “He doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be without the army.”

“I haven’t been sleeping either, Harry,” Liam says in what he thinks is supposed to be a comforting way. “It’s all gonna take some time.”

 

 

_The pain rushes through him. He stares up at the sky and can see the muzzle flashes overhead. He brings his hand to his shoulder. It’s wet and sticky. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust before he sees the red blood covering his fingertips._

_It’s like everything is happening all at once and in slow motion at the same time. He knows he needs to move. Knows he needs to find cover._

_Harry crawls across the dirt; pulling himself with his right arm toward an opening in the wall that leads to a small courtyard._

_He can still hear his name. Shouting over and over._

_He leans against the wall, his hand keeping pressure on the wound. Everything inside him feels empty. There’s too much blood._

_A noise comes from the other side of the open space and Harry draws his side arm in time to shoot the hostile running toward him with his own gun drawn._

_Two in the chest._

_“Harry!”_

_His eyes are foggy. More men come from across the court yard. He fires. Again. Again. Again. Until the click of an empty magazine all but signs his death warrant._

_Harry tries to get to his feet, drawing his knife instead._

_He’s tackled to the ground. Hands tight around his neck. Glass breaks. He can’t breathe._

 

Harry wakes. Jolting up from the floor. His mind is all over the place. His shirt and pants are wet with sweat as his heart races. He hears glass breaking. He tries to push it out of his mind. Tries to calm himself down, until he realizes that he wasn’t imagining the sound, but that the sound was coming from out in the living room.

Harry pulls himself up.

Niall’s yelling. He can’t quite make it out, but he knows it’s Niall and that things are being thrown about.

Harry goes to the door listening for a moment, unsure of whether he really wants to go out there and face whatever is happening. He turns the knob and the door creaks open.

Niall’s in the living room. The lamp, and the end table that the lamp was on are on the floor. Ceramic and glass shards scatter the floor.

“We’re never gonna make it out of here!” Niall yells, pushing his hands through his hair and Harry sees that Niall is holding a knife. “They left us here!” Niall cries. His face and eyes are red. “He’s gonna die…” he says in a more somber tone.

“Niall?” Harry says gently.

Niall jumps at the sound of Harry’s voice, turning quickly with the knife raised.

“I don’t wanna die…” Niall says pointing the knife at Harry.

“I know… Niall, I know. Okay, but they came back for us, Niall.” Harry moves a little closer to him. “We waited it out and they came back for us. Hemmings was fine. We got him back in time.”

“No!” Niall shouts. “They said they’d be back in one hour, but they aren’t coming back!”  Niall turns, pacing in front of the couch. “We have to barricade the windows.” Niall starts moving the couch toward the window, sliding it through the broken pieces of the lamp.

“Niall, we’re back home. We’re not in Afghanistan anymore,” Harry says softly.

“They’re coming for us.” Niall frantically starts throwing the discarded end table and then the coffee table toward the window breaking picture frames, still holding onto the knife. “We can’t stay here!” Niall starts moving toward the door and Harry takes his chance while Niall’s back is too him, to grab him firmly from behind, but Niall turns and Harry ducks just in time for Niall to miss him with the knife.  “We have to get out of here!” Niall’s attention goes back to the door.

“Niall, no!” Harry grabs Niall, tighter this time. Bending Niall’s wrist until he finally lets go of the knife.

“We have to get out of here!” Niall screams, fighting against Harry.

Harry gets his arms around Niall and they fall to the ground.

“Let me go! They’re gonna get us!”

“Niall, it’s okay,” Harry whispers. He wraps his legs around Niall to keep him from kicking but that doesn’t keep him from elbowing Harry in the ribs over and over, and then Niall butts him in the nose with the back of his head.

Harry almost lets go. The pain in his face and side is overwhelming but he can’t let Niall leave the house. Not like this. If Niall’s going to hurt someone, it’s going to be Harry and not a civilian.

“It’s okay, Niall.” Harry holds Niall tight. He can already see the blood from his nose on Niall’s white shirt. “You’re home. You’re with me. It’s okay…”

“We’re gonna die,” Niall cries. His efforts to get away diminish.

“It’s okay,” Harry repeats. “You’re home. I’m right here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Harry’s muscles are tired, his body hurts, but he doesn’t let go of Niall, they both just lie there in the darkness of the living room, bloody and tired on the floor.

He feels Niall’s heartrate go down, feels him lose the tension running through his body. It’s only then that he lets go and rolls onto his back.

Niall stays there for a while until he crawls over and sits, leaning up against the wall.

“H-Harry?” Niall chokes out.

Red and blue flashing lights come in through the front window.

Harry sits up looking over toward where Niall sits terrified and broken against the wall. 

“It’s okay.” Harry gets up and goes over to pull the chair and the end table off of the couch. He moves the furniture back to their general places before he goes over and helps Niall off the floor and onto the couch, careful not to step in the shards from the lamp.

There’s a loud knock at the front door.

Harry breathes in and out slowly, when Niall’s hand reaches up and grabs his wrist when he goes to take a step forward.

“It’s okay. I promise,” Harry says managing a smile before Niall drops his grip.

They knock again, when Harry finally opens the door.

Two officers stand there, one with a flashlight that he’s shining in Harry’s face. “There was a call about a domestic disturbance.”

“Everything’s under control here,” Harry says. He knows they see right through the lie. Not too many people come to the door at three in the morning with a bloody and bruised nose.

“We’re going to have to insist that we come in, Sir,” the other officer says.

Harry nods and moves out of the way for the officers to come in. He flips a switch by the door which makes the overhead light come on.

The room looks a lot worse in the light and so does Niall.

“Neighbors reported yelling and what sounded like things being thrown about.” The officer looks down at the floor where the debris from the lamp covers the floor.

“Like I said, everything’s under control,” Harry repeats himself with a little more grit to his voice.

The other officer circles around toward the door and bends over. “Then what’s this?” he says holding up the knife.

“One of you is going to have to start talking unless you want to go downtown.”

There’s a moment where they’re all just looking at each other waiting for someone to speak.

“It was me,” Niall says softly. “I thought that I was somewhere else. Harry was just trying to get me to calm down.”

“With a knife?”

Niall looks at the officer staring daggers at the man. “I had the knife,” he says with a bit of bite to his tone.

“It’s over. It’s done with. It won’t happen again,” Harry says looking between the two officers.

The officers look at each other.

“We better not be called back out here,” the officer says sternly.

The two officers go to the door. They both look back at Niall and Harry one more time before they exit.

Harry quickly closes the door and locks it.

“Harry?” Niall looks over at him from the couch.

“Niall, they told us stuff like this might happen,” Harry says softly. “We just have to get used to being back here is all.”

“I could’ve killed you.”

“No, you couldn’t’ve,” Harry says.

“You’re face—”

“Niall, please don’t overthink this,” Harry sighs. “You didn’t mean to do any of this. I’m the one that put myself in that situation. You didn’t come into our bedroom and try to kill me in my sleep. You thought you were back on a crap mission that left us stranded in a crap little basement while we waited for reinforcements. That’s it. And aside from some rearranging some furniture and a bloody nose, nothing’s different.”  Harry watches Niall looking for any sort of change in his headspace. “Just try to get some sleep, yeah?”

Niall gives a slow nod before he gets up and walks slowly toward the other room.

Harry goes to the hall closet and get the broom and dustpan to sweep up the broken shards on the floor. He picks up the tactical knife and brings it with him back into the bedroom.

He shoves the knife into the top drawer of the dresser before he goes into the bathroom.  He flicks on the light and examines himself in the bathroom mirror.

There’s blood all down the front of him.  He lifts his shirt over his head and sets it on the sink. Bruises are already starting to form on his side, but he tries to ignore all of it as he tries to clean himself up as best he can. He just wants to go back to sleep. Not that sleep has been very good lately.

Harry tries not to be mad at Niall. He knows that it could’ve easily have been him instead.  The dreams he has about being back in combat feel real. They feel like he’s living them over again.

He gets a new shirt and pants before he goes back to the floor.  He hates that he keeps saying that it will take some time to get back to normal. He doesn’t know how long that will actually take and he’s terrified that it won’t happen for Niall or himself.  That they’ll be caught in an endless cycle of skirting around each other, waking each other up in the middle of the night, and lying to each other about the possibility of things ever getting better.

 

 

“You look like shite,” Nick says when Harry lets him into the house. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me the last couple days? What the hell happened?”

Harry goes to sit down to put his shoes on. “Niall had an episode of some sort…”

“And he wacked you in the nose?” Nick laughs.

“He thought he was in Afghanistan.  The police showed up. Everything’s fine.”

“Well, Harold, if that’s your version of decent storytelling, I’ve got to tell you that you really need to work on it.” Nick sits on the couch and looks at the empty space on top of the end table. “Didn’t there used to be a lamp there?”

“Yes,” Harry says harshly.

Nick gives a quick nod in understanding; clearly Harry doesn’t want to talk about it.

“So where is the little ball of sunshine anyway?”

“He’s out with Liam.”

“And you didn’t go with?”

Harry stands and goes to the door and Nick gets the hint and follows him.

“Niall needed to get out of the house for a bit and Liam wanted to talk to him.”

Harry locks the door before they set out. The nice part about this town is that, for the most part, they can walk pretty much anywhere, the downside, as shown the other night is that the neighbors are always up in each other’s business.

The night air is refreshing, and Harry has to admit that he was looking for a reason to leave the house as well, so when Nick called and suggested they go to the pub, he agreed.

When they get there, the pub relatively empty for it being a Tuesday night.

“Gentlemen!” Bressie calls from behind the bar where he’s unloading some boxes. “What can I get for ya?”

“Two pints to start, Brez,” Harry says taking a seat at the bar. 

Bressie pours the beers and sets them in front of them. “You being here actually reminds me,” Bressie says, wiping his hands on a rag before he’s coming out from behind the bar. “Gotta keep up on this thing.” Bressie goes over to a set of bulletin boards with pictures tacked to them.

The pictures are of all the guys from the town in active military. There’s a section for those who are home, those who are overseas, and those killed in action.    

Harry picks up his drink and follows Bressie over to the boards. 

He sees their pictures in the overseas section and Bressie slowly starts unpinning them and putting them over into the home section.

“Might as well leave Liam’s,” Harry says taking a drink.

“What?” Nick says coming up behind him.

“That’s what Liam had to talk to Niall about…he’s already explained it all to me,” Harry shrugs.

“Liam’s going back?” Bressie says pausing at Liam’s picture. “Why the hell would he do that?”

“He’s extending his tour. Doesn’t want to leave Tommo there by himself.”

“Shite.” Bressie hands fall from the board and he leaves Liam’s photo next to Louis’.  “Barely got you lads back this time around and he just goes and reups just like that?”

“He’s been thinking about it for a while,” Harry says trying to justify Liam’s decision, but even though he offered to go back with him, Harry doesn’t want to go back. He never wants to go back. “Besides, with the way things are going, I doubt we’ll be over there much longer.”

Bressie put up the pictures of Niall and Harry under the home portion. It doesn’t even feel real to Harry. It hasn’t really felt like home, but more like someone else’s memory of home. 

Harry goes back to the bar.

“You’re staying put, right?” Bressie asks as if the possibility just hit him.

Harry nods. “I have no desire to go back to that place. We should’ve never gone back this last time around, but the army sends us where the army sends us,” Harry says solemnly, taking a sip from his pint.

Bressie and Nick share a worried look, but neither of them say anything more on the subject.

“So, how’s the little one?” Bressie asks a few minutes later after helping another man at the end of the bar.

“He’s finally gotten jealous of Harry’s good looks and decided to take it upon himself to do some facial rearranging,” Nick says jauntily.

“Niall did that?” Bressie says gesturing to the bruise that now spreads from Harry’s nose to around his left eye.

“He didn’t mean to,” Harry says with a shrug.

“He have an episode? Start yelling at furniture? Using the kitchen table as a blockade?” Bressie rambles off.

“Living room couch, actually.” Harry stares down at the wooden bar.

Bressie shakes his head. “Honestly, there’s gotta be something everyone’s missing. They just send us back into the ‘real world’ and expect us to just fall into line with the civilian population.”

“Says the Irish pub owner,” Nick chuckles.

“Yeah, the Irish pub owner who almost burned down the pub when he thought he was surrounded and there was no other way out,” Bressie bites back.

“They told us to watch out for each other, but I didn’t know that would entail my fiancé coming after me with a knife.” Harry downs the rest of his pint, while the other two stare at him.

“You definitely left that part out of the story,” Nick chides.

Harry shrugs. “He woke me up from a dream I was having from when I got shot, so maybe it was for the best.”  Harry pushes his empty glass across the bar for Bressie to refill it. “And if he hadn’t lost it first, I probably would’ve… might not happen to far down the line, actually.”

“None of us are losing it,” Bressie says. “To the general public, yeah, it all seems a bit crazy, but if they lived through that shite, they’d be coming after their fiancés with knives too.”

“That’s extremely reassuring, Mr. Breslin.” Nick finishes his pint.

 

 

“I set the alarm for seven a.m. already,” Harry says from the couch.

Niall stands in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil. “What for?”

“I wanted to see Liam off since he’s spending tonight with his family. Bus is supposed to leave at eight so that gives us enough time to get down there.” Harry leans his head against the back of the couch. “I can’t believe he’s going back.”

“Why didn’t you try talking him out of it then?” Niall gets out their orange and green mugs from the cupboard.

“I trust him,” Harry says.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Harry picks up his head, looking over at Niall. “I trust that he’s going to come back…with Louis.  I don’t exactly go to church on a regular basis, but I have faith that Louis and Liam are coming home.”  Harry tries reading the look on Niall’s face, but he’s not sure where Niall’s mind is going. “What about you? Why didn’t you try to get him to stay?”

Niall looks guilty in that moment. He can’t look at Harry. “I dunno,” he shrugs. “I guess we all had our reasons for signing up in the first place, so I think that now, we have more autonomy over our decisions to stay or go back, which means that if Liam thought it was a good idea, he has the experience to back up that decision.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Harry says turning back to the TV. He’s been trying to watch it for a while now but can’t seem to really commit to the program.

Niall comes over a few minutes later, handing Harry his green mug and sitting down on the couch next him.

Harry can feel Niall’s eyes on him, like Niall wants to say something to him but either doesn’t really want to or doesn’t know how.

Harry sips on his tea. He loves how perfect it is. Niall could always make it the way he liked it better than he could.

“Harry?” Niall says quietly. 

Harry watches him as he sets down his tea, so he does the same. Niall gets off the couch and situates himself between Harry’s legs, kneeling on the floor in front of him. 

Niall’s eyes are sad but hopeful at the same time.  He rests his hands on Harry’s thighs. His fingertips are delicate against the black denim of Harry’s jeans.

Goosebumps run up Harry’s back. He feels like it’s been forever since Niall’s touched him.

Niall reaches his hand up, brushing is thumb along the fading bruise under Harry’s eye. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know…” Harry leans into Niall’s touch, placing his own hand over Niall’s.

“I love you, Harry…and I always will,” Niall says before he leans in and kisses Harry.

God, Harry missed kissing Niall. He falls into it almost immediately. All of his thoughts and worries of the last two weeks fall away and it’s like they are back to being kids again. Grabbing at each other, pulling each other as close as they possibly can, kissing until they absolutely have to come up for air.

Niall grabs the remote and turns off the TV behind him without missing a beat and soon enough he’s pulling Harry off the couch and leading them into their bedroom. 

Niall falls on top of Harry on the bed, straddling his legs, unbuttoning Harry’s shirt.

It’s all awkward and needy and fun as they try to get their clothes off. Getting stuck in too-tight jeans. Shirts stuck on ID tags.

Niall’s hand slides up Harry’s chest until his fingers brush over the gold ring on the same chain as his tags. “Whatever happens,” Niall says softly. “Don’t take it off.”

Harry nods and Niall bends down and kisses him even more intent than before. 

They’re lost in each other and Harry can feel his heart racing. He’s naked and exposed and at the same time he’s never felt safer. He’s with Niall. He’s with him through the awkwardness and the release. The feeling of being physically together after being apart for so long. Harry never wants it to end. Even when they’ve finished and they’re tired, Harry wants to lie there with the warmth of Niall lying next to him for the rest of his life. He knows he wants to be with Niall for the rest of his life and he never wants them to leave this bed.

 

 

Harry wakes up in the morning.  His first time waking up in a proper bed since they got back. He feels the softness of the sheets against his bare skin. He can’t help but smile. He rolls over, but the bed is empty next to him.

“Niall?” Harry calls out. He looks around the room, listening for any movement out in the living room or kitchen. “Niall?” Harry sits up and looks at the clock on the nightstand. It’s 8:15. “Liam…shit!” Harry jumps out of bed and grabs whatever clothes he can. He’s dressed in seconds and he’s practically falling out of the room. “Niall!” he calls out again. 

Harry fumbles to put on his boots when he sees it. There’s a slip of paper sitting on the kitchen counter.

_H,_

_I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for what I’m doing right now. I knew you’d never let me go back, so this was the only way I could do it. I want to be with you, but I don’t think I’m meant to live a normal life. I’ll make sure that Louis and Liam get back to you safe. Don’t wait for me, Harry, I’m not coming back._

_Love,_

_-Nialler_

Harry stands there frozen for a moment before he’s running out the front door. He doesn’t bother to close or lock the door, he just runs. His chest hurts and his feet ache in his boots, but he keeps running until he gets to the corner bus stop.  There’s not a bus or a person in uniform in sight.

“Niall…” Harry breathes out. 

His head spins and for a moment it doesn’t feel real. It feels like one of his nightmares and he’ll wake up any second.

“Harry?”

Harry turns around and sees Bressie standing there.

“He’s gone,” Harry says.

“Harry, it’s alright,” Bressie says gently. “Liam will come back. He—”

“Not Liam,” Harry’s throat is raw and dry. “Niall…Niall left. He went back.”

 

 

“Maybe it’s only for a few months,” Bressie says, sitting across the table from him.  The pub’s closed but Bressie didn’t think it would be good for Harry to be alone. “You said it yourself, they might be done over there anyway.”

“He told me not to wait for him. He’s not coming back,” Harry says knocking back other pint. “Even if they do pull out, he’s not coming back. He’s done with me.”

“I don’t think that could ever be true.” Bressie sits back in his chair. “He’s been in love with you since you were nine.”

“People fall out of love all the time,” Harry says flatly.

Bressie shakes his head. “Not people that are truly in love.”  He leans back and rests his forearms on the table. “You lads are still young. He’s just trying to figure out what he wants to do and for him that meant going back to something he already knew until he could figure that out.”

“If he was doing this just until he figured things out then he could’ve talked to me about it. I would’ve gone back with him. All he had to do was talk to me, but instead he just took off.” He watches the condensation drip down the empty glass in front of him. “Maybe it’s best that he doesn’t come back,” Harry mumbles. 

Bressie gives him a sad look that says that he hopes Harry doesn’t mean that, but maybe a piece of him understands. 

Harry gets up from his seat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bressie says. He stands as if he’s ready to tackle Harry if he tries to leave.

“I’m going home.”

“Harry, you shouldn’t be alone,” Bressie says in a sad tone.

“I’ll call Gemma or Nick, when I get back, Brez. I promise.” Harry looks back at Bressie. He knows that Bressie is just trying to be there for him. He’s practically like a brother to Niall and he knows this must hurt him as much as it hurts Harry.  “Don’t forget to change the board,” Harry says gesturing toward the bulletin board with all their pictures on it. “I’ll see you later, Brez.”

 

When Harry gets back to the house he goes straight to the cupboard next to the sink and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. He tosses the cap on the counter and takes a sip. He can feel the burn of the alcohol run down his throat.

He walks over, standing just outside their bedroom, staring at the bed.  Taking drink after drink, he stares at the bed, while the anger boils up in side of him. 

He sets the bottle down on the floor next to the open door and walks inside.

He had hope last night. Hope that things with Niall were getting better. That they could be happy together…for as long as they were together.

Harry shoves his hands under the mattress and flips it over hard enough that it knocks the alarm clock onto the floor before it hits with a thud against the dresser. The nightstand goes next.  Then the clothes from the closet. Then the clothes from the dresser after he pushes the mattress, making it land against the windows, bending the blinds.

Harry goes back out to the living room and grabs the bottle of whiskey off the counter and chugs it. He doesn’t put it down until he feels like he’s going to puke.

He sets the bottle down again.

The couch, the chair, the end tables. Everything reminds him of Niall. Everything has to go.

The end table is the first to go. Niall already broke the lamp that sat on it so, there’s really no point in having the end table anymore. Harry beats it against the ground. Hit after hit as it slowly falls apart.

And when everything no longer looks the way it used to, Harry picks up the whiskey bottle and collapses on the floor, leaning against the kitchen counter.

He misses Niall and hates him at the same time. Harry gave Niall what he wanted; time and space, but Niall couldn’t see it ever working.  A seven-year relationship went down the toilet the moment Niall decided to leave. The moment that he could no longer see himself being with Harry in the future. 

His body aches and Harry’s unbelievably tired.  

 

_The man’s grip tightens around Harry’s throat. The man’s face is covered other than his eyes. Crow’s-feet at the outer corners, heavy, dark bags underneath his dark stare._

_He doesn’t look scared. Not the way that Harry feels. The man looks intent to kill him. His grip growing tighter around Harry’s neck._

_His vision goes blurry, but he doesn’t stop trying to fight the man off. Pushing and pulling at him, trying anything for the man to let go._

_“Niall…” Harry chokes out as black patches fill his eyesight._

_And then the pressure is gone…_


	2. With the Old Breed

Days don’t seem real. Everything is a blur between sleeping, drinking, and puking his guts out.

Harry curls up on the bathroom floor; for convenience more than anything.  Puking in the toilet gave the added bonus of flushing it away like it never happened. A concept to which Harry is all too familiar with.

He doesn’t even know how long this has been going on for. Hours? Days? Weeks? It’s all relative when the love of your life leaves you and your entire life feels like a lying sack of shit.

“Harry?” he hears a familiar voice.  “Jesus Christ, thank God,” Nick says kneeling in front of him. “What the hell happened in here?”

“Niall left me,” Harry mumbles dizzily.

“I know.” Nick tries to get Harry to sit up. “Stopped by the pub, Bressie only looks about a quarter as bad as you do, but I then I saw that Niall’s picture had moved back. Harry, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Ignorance is bliss,” Harry sings out. “The truth will not set you free…it just gives your fiancé an out for leaving you.”

Nick sighs.  “Harry, maybe you should just grab and shower and go to bed in the extra room.”

“No!” Harry lashes out. He grabs onto Nick’s shirt. “I can’t go in there.”

“Alright, well at least take a shower. You smell like shite and it’ll give me some time to get this place cleaned up a little.”

Harry gives a slow nod and let’s Nick help him into the shower, where he just sits on the floor, letting the water run over him.

 

Three Weeks Later…

“Come on, sunshine,” Nick says pulling at Harry’s arm from where he’s asleep on the couch. “I’ve had enough of this moping about business. Your mum and Gemma are worried sick about you.” Nick keeps pulling on Harry’s arm, and kicks at the sofa. “You need to get back out in the world. Get a job. See your family. See some friends. Maybe make some new ones.”

“Fuck off,” Harry mumbles into the pillow and he yanks his arm away from Nick and shoves it under his body.

“Seriously mate,” Nick says kneeling down and putting his hand to Harry’s forehead. “You keep this up for much longer and you’re going to end up killing yourself.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry drones.

“The fuck it doesn’t,” Nick spits back taking a step back. “I didn’t sit here worrying about losing you over there just to lose you here instead. It may not matter to you, but Niall isn’t everything. What he did sucks but you don’t need him. You might want him, but you don’t need him to carry on with your life. Now, pull yourself together, because we are going out tonight.”

Harry groans but Nick starts pulling at him again until he falls off the couch.

 

Nick’s cleaning up the living room of all the empty bottles, when Harry comes out of the shower.

It’s as if the alcohol is pouring out of Harry’s pores because all Nick smells is whiskey when Harry walks past him and into the kitchen.

Harry starts going through all the lower cabinets.

“I poured the rest of your stash down the sink, empty bottles are with the recycling,” Nick says flatly.

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” Harry says dryly.

“Mostly to make sure that you weren’t dead,” Nick says folding his arms across his chest. “I had to talk your sister out of driving out here to check on you…this isn’t something she or your mum should see, Harry.  They’re both worried enough as is.”

“I’m fine.” Harry goes to the refrigerator and grabs a half empty water bottle.  The fridge is practically empty aside from some leftover pizza, orange juice, and some sad looking apples.

Just then the phone rings, it’s a bit of a surprise since most people don’t call the house phone, which makes Harry stand there for a moment staring at it, before he walks over into the living room and answers it.

“Hello?”

“Harry?” the voice is a bit muffled and crackled, but he recognizes it.

“Liam?” Harry looks over at Nick and see a different look of concern come across his face.

“Yeah…” Liam’s silent for a moment. “Harry, I didn’t know. He got on the bus a split second before we left. They’ve been moving us around so much, this is the first chance any of us got to call home. I just—”

“How’s Tommo?” Harry asks. He knows what Niall did wasn’t Liam’s fault, he doesn’t want Liam blaming himself for that.

“Less than excited to see us back here with him,” Liam says. “I thought he’d shoot Niall for what he did, he was so pissed off.” Liam breathes out slowly.

Harry can imagine him standing there in his uniform, hiding in some corner to get some bit of quiet.

“He still loves you, Harry…he’s just a bit lost,” Liam says quietly.

There’s a loud commotion in the background, followed by yelling.

“Harry, I’ve got to go, just take care of yourself, yeah? Don’t shut yourself in.”

“Just make sure you come home.”

“Promise,” Liam says, and Harry can tell there’s a small but sad smile on Liam’s face.  “Take care, Hazza.” The call ends and Harry has a hard time putting it back on the receiver, hoping that Liam’s voice will come back on the line, but when he finally puts the phone down, he falls onto the couch.

“Everything alright?” Nick asks leerily.

Harry nods.

It’s just like Liam to worry about Harry even when Liam is in the middle of a war.  He still tries to fix everything from three thousand miles away.

Harry looks up at Nick. “Where did you want to go tonight?”

 

 

“You pour all my booze down the sink, but you want to go to a bar?” Harry asks following Nick inside Camden Pub.

“Yeah, well, Bressie makes the best chips in town, so sit down and play nice,” Nick says over his shoulder.

They sit down at the bar just as Bressie comes out from the back.

“Haven’t seen you lads for a while. What can I get for you?” Bressie smiles.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but Nick jumps in.

“He’ll have a water and I’ll have a pint.”

“What the—" Harry wants to argue.

Bressie nods. “Probably for the best, you smell like you’ve—”

“Bathed in a tub full of whiskey?” Nick cuts in.

“Yeah…” Bressie looks at Harry curiously. “I assume you want chips as well?”

“You assume correctly,” Nick says with a smile.

Harry wants to bludgeon both of them.  His head is pounding, and he just wants to go back to bed, but he knows Nick won’t let him.

Bressie puts their drinks on the bar in front of them and goes into the back to put in their order.

“What’s the point of this again?” Harry says dully.

“What did Liam say?” Nick asks casually.

“What does that matter?”

“Because I have a sneaking suspicion that whatever he said is what allowed me to get you out of the house.”

Harry watches the condensation go down the side of his water glass. “Told me not to shut myself in…”

“Your friends know you too well, young Harold.” Nick sips his beer looking at all the pictures pinned to the wall behind the bar.

Harry follows his gaze and sees one of the four of them. Bressie took the picture just before their first tour. They’re all wearing their uniforms, arms draped over each other, all of them smiling widely.

When that picture was taken, Harry didn’t think he’d ever love anyone the way that he loved Niall. Four years didn’t seem like a lot of time. Anyone else would spend those four years at Uni, but they all joined up instead; set on making a difference in the world before settling down.  And now Niall’s there because he’s terrified of living a regular life…or at least a regular life with Harry.

“So, does this mean that you’ll leave the house a little more? Maybe get your old job back with the paper?” Nick asks in a more serious tone.

Harry sips his water and shakes his head. “I don’t think I can work there anymore…I’ll have to try to find something else I guess.”

“You could work here,” Bressie says coming out with their chips. “Left a spot open for the little one, but since he’s decided to fuck off without telling anyone, I’ve got an opening.”

“Careful, if you get too upset over Niall leaving then he’ll come to your house unannounced at all hours of the day to annoy the living shite out of you,” Harry says gesturing to Nick.

“Well, be that as it may, offer still stands,” Bressie says.

“I’ve never tended bar though,” Harry says quietly.

“I think we both know that’s bull-shite,” Bressie replies. “Between you being here almost every night Niall worked and the times you covered for him when he was too shit-faced to show up, I’d say you’re well qualified.”

“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” Harry says quietly.

“I might not be here twenty-four-seven, but I know what goes on here twenty-four-seven. So, do you want the job or not? I can start you on slower days and an earlier shift until you get the hang of it.”

Harry thinks about it for a moment, he looks at the photo of them behind Bressie. Stupid smiling kids.

“I’ll take it,” Harry says looking at Bressie.

“Good, I’ll give you a couple days to get yourself sorted out, so you don’t smell like alcohol before you get here.” Bressie rummages under the counter until he finds the proper paperwork and places it on the counter in front of Harry. “Fill these out, and while you’re at it, go for a run in the morning, eat a damn salad, and I’ll see you on Tuesday at eleven a.m..”  

“Fair enough.”

 

 

“Whatcha up to?” Nick says letting himself in the front door.

“I’m looking to get a security system put in,” Harry says over his shoulder. He’s sitting at the counter going over the stack of papers Bressie gave him.

“I thought I’d have to wake you up, so I didn’t bother knocking,” Nick says coming around the island to face Harry.

“I got up early to go for a run,” Harry says not paying Nick any mind as he goes for the coffee maker.  Harry stops and looks up. “Well, I guess it wasn’t so much a run as a fast walk…jog…I don’t even know.”

“Pretty sure that’s called powerwalking, babe, and it makes me so happy to know that a young, strapping lad like yourself, who was not so long ago defending our country, is now doing the workout routine of an elderly woman.”

“Piss off,” Harry says going back to his paperwork.

“Me thinks you drink too much,” Nick says grabbing a mug from the cupboard. “You’re going to have to powerwalk to China to work off the amount of alcohol you’ve had the last couple weeks.” He leans against the counter waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. He picks up a small stack of papers, glancing over it. “What’s this? Doesn’t seem like normal questions for a job application.”

Harry looks up at the papers in Nick’s hand. “All the people that work for Bressie are former military…everyone has their triggers, I suppose. It’s best for Bressie to know about that sort of thing before he hires someone.”

“So, they don’t hurt themselves…”

Harry looks back down at his papers. “More so they don’t hurt other people…Niall, thought he was on a mission in Afghanistan, waving around a knife in our living room…’m lucky all that came out of that was a bruised nose. And in case you’re wondering, no, I don’t know if there’s something that’ll set me off.”

Nick’s quiet. Harry can tell that he’s watching him but doesn’t know what to say.

 

 

“So, basically,” Bressie says standing next to Harry behind the bar. “It’s all pretty simple because the drink measurements and what not are on this handy-dandy piece of laminated paper behind the bar. You stick to that and you’re golden. Prices are all on there as well, along with all the things that cost extra. No drinks are on the house. No giving your friends or family, that’s including your own mum, free drinks. The only time drinks are free is if you’ve royally fucked something up or if I say so. Either way it has to be documented on the receipt. I know that makes me seem like a shite person, but this is a business and if we don’t make money, you don’t get paid.  And all tips go into the tip jar, also located behind the bar, and every time someone comes or goes the tips are divvied up with whoever was working at the time, minus me, because I’m the owner.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Harry says.  He looks over the bar, noting the list of drinks and the empty tip jar sitting under the lip of the bar. 

“Honestly, most people that come in here just want a pint and maybe some chips and that’s about it.” Bressie walks down the bar. “And if you need me, I’ll be in the back office, but,” Bressie looks out at the completely empty room, “I think you’ll be fine for the time being.”

Bressie disappears into the back and Harry’s left in the quiet of the empty bar with only the soft sound of music play over the speakers to keep him company.

A few men come in around noon. They order cokes and sandwiches, which Harry dutifully takes to the back kitchen so Josh, their cook, can make the food, while he gets the cokes.

He wipes down the bar and then wipes down the bar again as he waits for the men to finish their food, pay, and leave before he clears off the table they used.

“Harry?” Bressie says coming out from the back, looking at some papers.  The bar is empty again at this point. He looks up at Harry. “You didn’t fill some of these out?” Bressie says with a perplexed look on his face.

“Can’t fill out what I don’t know,” Harry says. He goes back behind the counter.

“You’ve been home almost two months and nothing?”

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head. “Few dreams here and there, but I haven’t had any episodes or anything.”

Bressie nods his head slowly. “Alright, just checking,” Bressie says and he takes the papers and disappears through the to the back office.

It goes like that for the first month or so. Dayshifts made up of a quiet, empty bar, with men coming in for lunches, random men and women coming in and downing a couple whiskeys, then slamming money down on the bar, before they make a swift exit out the front door.

“You’ve been doing well,” Bressie says one day when Harry’s getting things ready for the evening shift.

Harry nods. “It’s not that hard, right now, I suppose.”

“Almost makes you miss getting shot at,” Bressie laughs. “I know it’s a bit dull right now, but my usual day shifter is coming back from holiday soon if you’d like to take on a nightshift or two, until you get your bearings.” 

“I dunno,” Harry says. He places the glasses back where they’re supposed to go.

“Harry, people like you. You’re nice to assholes and you’re smart, plus you’ll make more in tips,” Bressie adds.

“People don’t like me…not around here anyway,” Harry says quietly.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Bressie looks at him curiously.

Harry fires back a knowing look; Bressie should know better.

“People are still pissy about that sort of thing then, yeah?” Bressie asks.

“I don’t want to scare away customers because half the town thinks I’m going to hell for sharing a bed with another man.” Harry goes back to his cleaning.

“Fuck ‘em,” Bressie says easily. “Anyone gives you a hard time, then I don’t want them here anyway.” Bressie says it with finality. “You can take the nightshift on Saturday and Sunday.” He disappears into the back office before Harry can fight him on it.

Harry remembers sitting there listening to people snicker and talk shit to Niall when he worked there at night. Harry even remembers them giving him a hard time when he had to cover for Niall on occasion.  Niall could take it. He’d tell them to fuck off and other colorful words that Harry just doesn’t have the energy to come up with on the spot. Things in this town have always been shite for them. They’d leave it alone if Bressie was around, Nick hanging around didn’t do them any favors since most thought the same of him, but mostly didn’t say anything for the fear of Nick slandering them over the radio to the whole town. Louis and Liam had gotten into multiple fights after overhearing people talking about Harry and Niall. It’s just wasn’t good.

 

 

Come Saturday evening, Bressie makes sure to stay out near the bar most of the night.  Harry has a hard time keeping tabs straight but other than that, he fills pints and mixes drinks and nothing of consequence happens.

Sunday is a different story. One would think that a holy day would grant some room for kindness, but that isn’t the case.

A group of older men sit at the corner table. Laughing and yelling for hours. Pitchers of beer and spilled drinks, it’s after midnight and Harry’s had about enough.

“Back in the day, there was something called _don’t ask don’t tell_ ,” one of the men starts to say. “Now all these faggots and she-men want to join up and have all these fucking accommodations. I mean, if these little fairies are going to spend the entire time over there staring at the asses of the guys in front of them, then what good are they?” The man chugs the rest of his beer. “They’re gonna get a lot of good men killed, that’s what’s gonna happen.”

The rest of the men nod and grunt in agreement. Harry brings over a full pitcher and sets it on the table, trying not to make eye contact with any of them though he knows they’re all staring at him.

Harry goes back to the bar, a couple sitting at the end is having what seems to be a serious conversation, so Harry tries to busy himself with other things.

“That one’s fucking that Irish kid.  Live together and everything.”

“What Irish kid?”

“The one that punched the Rowlands lad at the lodge and started that big scene in front of everyone.”

“The kid used to work here. Seems Bressie’s got a soft spot for ‘em. Fucking disgusting.”

“What are the odds that fairy dust attracts bullets?”

They all laugh loud enough for the couple to look over at them.

Harry keeps his head down and busies himself by cleaning the glasses.  He can feel his heartbeat quicken, his hands shaking as he tries to remain calm.

“Kip’s boy was over there with ‘em,” another one says. “There’s something wrong with all of ‘em. The two fags…and those other two, startin’ fights with anyone who talks against ‘em.  If they weren’t such little pussies they’d fight for themselves.”

“Probably don’t want to mess up their hair.”

“How the government ever allowed them in Her Majesty’s military, is beyond me.”

“Harry?”

“Be better off shipping ‘em off somewhere. Be somebody else’s problem.”

“Harry!”

Harry turns to see Bressie staring at him with a worried expression. “You alright, mate?” Bressie asks cautiously. He puts his hand out on Harry’s arm.

Harry looks down to see that he’s holding the knife from cutting up limes earlier. He drops it instantly.

“I think that’s about enough of that,” Bressie says quietly before he turns toward the rest of the bar. “We’re closin’ up early tonight, everyone!” he announces. “Finish up what you’ve got, settle any tabs, and we’ll see you later!”

Bressie turns back toward Harry. “Go in the back ‘n help Josh clean up back there, I’ll handle the rest of this.”

“Bressie…”

“Harry, it’s alright, really. Just go help Josh.”

 

 

Harry helps with the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen and Josh leaves soon after. 

Harry’s just finishing up with the dishes when Bressie comes back and leans against the doorway into the kitchen.

“I wasn’t gonna do anything,” Harry says softly, keeping his focus on the dishes.

“I know,” Bressie says lightly. He folds his arms over his chest. “I heard bits and pieces of what those wankers were sayin’ and it took a lot for me not to just go over there and pummel every single one of them.” Bressie watches Harry for a moment. “Have you talked to anyone since you’ve been back, and I don’t mean like Nick or me, but like a professional? Lot of the lads that work here have and it seemed to help them acclimate back into all this.”

Harry stops with the dishes for a moment and looks up at Bressie. “Did you?”

Bressie nods. “After I almost set this place on fire, I knew I couldn’t keep carrying on like nothin’ was wrong. Saw her for about two years. You’d be shocked at what good just talkin’ about stuff can do for ya.”

“I’ll be fine,” Harry says turning bad to the dishes.

“Harry, by my account, fine doesn’t usually trash his house, drink for three weeks straight, and grab a knife when some idiots start talking shit.”

“You gonna force me to go?”

Bressie sighs. “I’m not your mother. I’m not forcing you te do anything, just consider it at least.”

Harry gives a slow nod. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good, now the sooner you’re done with those dishes the sooner you can leave,” Bressie says he turns to go back out to the front of the bar.

“Bressie?” Harry says and Bressie pokes his head back in.  “Is it pathetic if I still want to wait for him to come back?”

“If it is, I guess I’m pathetic too, mate,” Bressie says with a smirk and he disappears out to the bar.

 

 

Nick’s been sitting at the bar, pestering Harry for most of the night. He didn’t bother telling Nick about the assholes from the other night or what Bressie said about going to talk to someone. He knows Bressie won’t bring it up again, though he’ll know whether or not Harry follows through with the advice; Bressie was always wise in some regard that scared Niall away from ever lying to him.

“Seriously, Harold, I doubt the big oaf will notice one pint missing,” Nick says leaning on bar.

“Bar rules, I can’t, so stop bugging me and pay for your damn drinks.” Harry walks down the bar to refill a glass before he comes back to where Nick is sitting.

“Fine, I’m going to the loo, make sure no one roofies me, yeah?” Nick slides off the barstool and walks off toward the bathroom.

“Pretty sure the only one who wants to drug you tonight is me,” Harry mutters.

“Heard that!” Nick calls out.

Harry shakes his head as he watches Nick disappear into the men’s bathroom.  

Harry pans the room, looking for anyone that might need a refill.

A group of women in their thirties are celebrating something. They asked Harry to turn up the music and are dancing, but keeping it localized to the area near their table.

They’ve been wine and mixed drinks all night, and to be honest, Harry’s had fun making drinks that he hasn’t before. With the regulars, mostly men, they usually want a pint or a pitcher for the table and that’s that, but women, and some men, seemed to enjoy alcohol that actually tasted good.

Harry looks down, eyes scanning over the list of drinks behind the bar, mentally checking off all the ones he’s had a chance to make and noting the ones that he’s curious about himself.  He hears a chair slide heavily against the wood floors, followed by gasps and a loud crash as glasses hit the floor.

 

_Harry coughs, pulling air back into his lungs. He can’t see straight. His hand clenches at his shoulder. Vague shapes of faces look down at him. They’re speaking, but everything sounds muffled as they put pressure on his shoulder._

_It’s Liam. He can see him now._

_He can’t help but smile even though his body hurts._

_“You’re gonna be fine, mate,”_ _he hears Liam’s voice come through the fog._

_“Niall…” he chokes out. He doesn’t mean to say it. He’s not supposed to say it; not here._

_“He’s right here, he’s fine,” Liam says looking over to where Niall is crouched with his back to them, keeping watch._

_“How bad is it?” Louis asks. He’s watching the other side of them._

_Liam rolls Harry over for a moment. “There’s no exit wound.  Bullet’s still in there.”_

_“L-Liam?” Harry feels empty and cold._

_“You’re gonna be alright, Haz,” Liam says looking Harry in the eye. He looks at Louis. “Lou, we need to get him out of here. The angle of the entry point, the bullet could be near his spine.”_

_“Alright,” Louis says moving over a little ways.  The rest of their men are still under fire in the alley. “Nialler, signal the others that we’re coming out and to give suppressing fire.”_

_Niall peeks out from behind the wall to signal the others. “We’re good.” Niall says._

_“Alright,” Louis moves so that he can see more from either side of him. “Niall, help Liam get him back to the Humvees. I’ll cover you.”_

_Niall comes over, slinging his gun over his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, Harry,” Niall says, kneeling at Harry’s side as he and Liam get on either side of him._

_“I don’t wanna die…” Harry chokes out._

_“You’re gonna be fine,” Niall says as he and Liam lift Harry off the ground._

“Harry?”

“I don’t wanna die…” Harry cries.

“Harry? Come back to us, mate. Come on.”

Harry opens his eyes. Still feels like he can’t breathe. He sees faces like before, vague shapes, familiar voices.

He’s sitting on the floor as everything comes into view. Bressie crouching next to him with Nick standing just behind him.  The cheap bottles of booze and extra glasses on the bottom shelves.

He looks around for a moment, trying to reorient himself.

His fingers hurt where his hand is clenching onto his shoulder. He doesn’t want to move it at first, scared that the pain was from something real. He lifts his hand; his palm absent of any blood.

“You alright?”

Harry looks at Bressie and nods.

 “What happened?”

“Someone knocked a tray of empty glasses on the floor,” Bressie says.

“Glass?” Harry questions.

“I guess we know now,” Bressie says. 

“On the bright side,” Nicks says. “No one got hurt.”

“A lot less violent than most I’ve seen,” Bressie says like it’s supposed to make Harry feel better.

“Guess it’s good that my trigger is me getting shot and not me shooting someone else,” Harry mumbles.

“You ready to get up?” Bressie asks. “I mean, if you want to stay down here you can.” Bressie smiles at him and maybe that’s what moves Harry to try to get up off the floor. Bressie grabs his arm and helps Harry to his feet. “Don’t look at any of them,” he says keeping Harry facing the wall of the bar. “Nick, help him to the back office, yeah? Get him some water.”

Nick nods and puts his hand on the small of Harry’s back ushering him toward the back office. 

Harry sits down on the small couch that Bressie has. He can’t help but stretch the collar of his black t-shirt so that he can see his shoulder properly. There he can still see the raised scar from the bullet that hit him. He runs his fingers over it.

“Felt like it was happening all over again,” he says. He releases his shirt, readjusting it around his neck.

“Want me to stay over tonight?” Nick asks sitting down next to him.

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know if that’d be better or worse.”

“Well, I’ll walk with you back to yours and if you want to stay I can, yeah?” Nick places his hand gently on Harry’s back.

Harry nods.

 

Harry tells Nick he can go home.  The walk back to the house helped clear his head and honestly, he was too afraid of hurting Nick if he stayed. 

He checks all the locks on the doors leading outside before he goes to the bedroom to grab some blankets and pillows.  He makes his bed on the bathroom floor; the only room that has a lock on it.  He’ll have to buy one for the bedroom at some point.

He’s terrified to close his eyes. He knows what he’s going to see. He knows what happens next and he doesn’t want to go through that again. He doesn’t want to see Niall. He doesn’t want to feel that hopeless. 

Harry lies there for hours, stretching into the early hours of the morning, listening to the rooster clock on the wall, that his mum gave them, tick away.

He closes his eyes to get rid of the burning from trying to keep them open.  It’s easy for his tired mind to enjoy the extra darkness.

 

_They position themselves at the opening to the alley._

_Louis and the others fire rapidly at the tops of the buildings as Liam and Niall move Harry toward the rear and back to the Humvees._

_“Fall back to the Humvees!” Louis shouts, and the rest of them men continue firing until they are out of direct line of sight of the enemy._

_Niall gets into the back of the Humvee with Harry, Liam gets behind the wheel and starting the vehicle, as they wait for Louis and the rest of the men._

_Harry leans against Niall who has his arms wrapped around Harry with his hand pressed firmly to Harry’s shoulder._

_Moments later, Louis climbs into the front seat. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he says breathlessly. Cpl. Reynor gets in the back next to Harry and Niall. Liam takes off down the street and Louis turns around. “How’s he doing?”_

_“He’s losing a lot of blood,” Niall replies._

_“I don’t wanna die,” Harry mumbles. He can hear and feel Niall’s raised heartbeat._

_“You’re gonna fine, Hazza,” Niall says, resting his cheek on the top of Harry’s head._

_“I’m so tired…”_

_“I know.” Niall looks down at Harry. “But you’ve got te stay awake, alright?”_

_Harry’s eyes begin to close._

_“Harry?” Niall cups Harry’s face with his hand, getting blood on Harry’s cheek. “Come on. Hey,” he says tapping lightly on Harry’s cheek. “Stay awake. You’re not going anywhere, alright?”_

_“I love you,” Harry says. The tone in his voice crushes Niall; this is his goodbye, but Niall doesn’t want to hear it._

_“I love you, too, but you gotta stay awake,” Niall says. He keeps his attention on Harry instead of Pvt. Reynor’s glances at the two of them. “Talk to me,” Niall urges. “Umm, what colors are we gonna have for the wedding? We never decided.”_

_“Navy blue,” Harry mumbles. “We’ll have it in the fall, before it gets too cold.”_

_“I like that,” Niall says. He presses harder on Harry’s shoulder. “We’ll have to ask the lads to be best men, yeah?”_

_Harry nods. “I’ll take Liam and Nick.”_

_Niall gives a soft chuckle. “Alright, I get Louis and Brez then.”_

_Harry sinks further into Niall._

_“’member what we said we’d do with the house?” Niall says trying to keep Harry awake._

_“W-We wanted to repaint,” Harry breathes out slowly._

_“Right…we’re gonna repaint everything but the kitchen; you said you liked the black and white too much to change it.”_

_“I did?” Harry tilts his head up slightly and looks at Niall, who nods._

_“I still think it was half the reason we bought the place,” Niall says with a soft smile._

_Harry puts his head back down against Niall’s chest._

_“What else?” Niall asks. He looks down at Harry’s whose eyes are closed.  “Harry? Hey, come on,” he says giving him a light shake._

_Harry’s eyes open again. His face is vacant of all color and his breathing is getting slower._

_“We’ll get a dog,” Niall says._

_“A golden retriever…” Harry says quietly._

_Niall nods. “We’ll get a golden retriever and we’ll name him something nerdy from Lord of the Rings or something, because I know you’d insist…We’ll wait a few years, maybe adopt a couple kids, and we’ll go on adventures all over the place. Every summer we’ll go somewhere new, and our kids will learn all sorts of languages and they’ll be the smartest kids in their class…”_

_“Niall—”_

_“We’re gonna have it all, Harry,” Niall interrupts. “The wedding, the dog, the kids…we’re gonna have it all, you just gotta stay with me.”_

_Harry’s breathing gets slower. “I love you…”_

_Harry’s eyes close as most of his weight sits against Niall’s chest._

_“Harry?” Niall looks down at him. “Harry, come on, wake up! Harry!”_

 

Harry wakes up to someone banging on the bathroom door. “Harry? Come on, please tell me you’re alright in there?” Bressie says with panic in his tone.

“Christ,” he hears Nick.

“Harry, come on, open the fucking door,” Bressie whispers.

“Can you hear any movement?” Nick whispers.

Harry climbs to his feet, his clothes are drenched with sweat when he unlocks and yanks open the bathroom door.

“Oh, thank god,” Bressie breathes out.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” Harry mumbles rubbing his face.

“You weren’t answering your mobile,” Nick says looking Harry over.

“Yeah well, that’s probably because it’s charging in the fucking kitchen.” Harry gestures out toward the kitchen where his phone sits on the counter charging.

“We were worried about you, mate.”

“Christ, I’m fine!” Harry shouts hoping that it will get through to them.

“Why were you sleeping in the bathroom with the door locked?” Bressie asks looking at the pile of blankets and pillows on the bathroom floor.

“And why are you so sweaty?” Nick says over Bressie’s shoulder like he’s worried Harry will whack him for the comment.

Harry goes over to the dresser, searching for dry clothes to change into.

“The bathroom was just in case and I had a fuckin’ nightmare, alright?” Harry grabs a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans from the drawer and pushes pass them to get to the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Nick asks looking at him curiously.

“I’m taking a fucking shower and by the time I get out you two will be gone. I’ll be at work later.” Harry slams the door in their faces and turns the water on but waits to get in until he hears them leave out the front door. 

He never thought that him and Niall giving house keys to Nick and Bressie would come to bite him in the ass this hard.

God, Niall…

Anytime the name comes up he tries to put it out of his mind just as fast.  They promised each other so much, so many times, but it still wasn’t enough for Niall to stay.

But maybe Niall was right. He didn’t want to get stuck here and by leaving, Harry’s ideas of being here have diminished.  Maybe he should’ve gone back too.

Maybe he and Niall could’ve worked things out, been friends one more time before they were boyfriends and then husbands.

Harry gets in the shower and looks down at the ID tags hanging from his neck along with his engagement ring. He can’t bring himself to take it off. Can’t bring himself to put it back in the box and forget about it.

Liam might be right after all. Maybe Niall still loves him. Maybe everything will turn out okay.

Harry shakes the thought from his head. If Niall loved him, he wouldn’t have left him and he sure as hell wouldn’t have written that note.  From this moment on, no more Niall. The ring dangling from his neck is nothing more than a reminder to move on with his life. Niall’s not coming back for him, so Harry should stop waiting.

 

***

 

“You seem good,” Nick says sitting at the counter next to Harry.

And he’s right. Harry’s been keeping up with his work out schedule, been eating better, and to be honest, he’s learned how to tune out all the assholes that come into the bar when he’s working nights.

“What are you doing anyway?” Nick asks looking over Harry’s shoulder.

“Writing a letter to Liam,” Harry says.  “Letting him know what’s going on and such.”

Nick looks impressed. “Tell the lads I say hello then,” he says grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.

“Will do,” Harry says. It’s probably stupid to waste the postage on something so frivolous, but he’s been on the receiving end of a handwritten letter while they were over there, and it was always good to hear about what was going on at home.

“So why Liam?” Nick takes a bite of the apple.

“Anytime someone would send letters to Louis, he’d forget to tell anyone about it, so the rest of us would share any well wishes from our mum’s or any important information like people getting married or pregnant, but Louis would forget to tell anyone about anything and none of us even knew he was going to have two new siblings when we got back. Liam is a sharer and Niall doesn’t want to hear from me, so yeah, plus he was here for at least a little while to understand what’s going on.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Nick shrugs.  He sits there quietly until Harry finishes the letter and folds it up into an envelope. “So, you up for going out tonight since you’re off work? We could catch a film, get some food, just make a night out of it.”

“I suppose,” Harry says.

“We’ll see something calm, like a stupid comedy or something, no romance, no fighting, no explosions. It’s been over two months since the whole glass thing at the bar, you haven’t had any issues since, unless you’re just not telling me about them. It could be fun! You remember what fun is right?”

“I remember. I just don’t want to jinx it,” Harry says sliding off the stool.

“Well, I’m not going to force you to come out,” Nick says easily. 

Harry thinks about it for a moment. “Are you going to actually let me drink?” he asks looking at Nick.

Nick rolls his eyes. “As long as it doesn’t continue for three weeks afterward, then sure! Go nuts!”

“Fine, but I’m picking the movie,” Harry says. He sets the envelope next to the fruit bowl. “I’ll mail that in the morning.”

 

Nick and Harry cross the road and walk down the sidewalk after the movie lets out.

“Say what you want about small towns,” Nick starts to say. “But at least you can watch a decent movie and walk to the pub afterward.” He slings his arm around Harry.

“The pub?” Harry groans. “I have one day off and you want to go to the pub? I thought we were going out for dinner.”

“We are. See? We’re out and now we’re going to dinner at the pub because I really want some—”

“Chips?” Harry cuts in.

“You know me too well, young Harold.” Nick leans into Harry.

“Fine, but you’re paying.”

“Fair enough,” Nick says opening the heavy door leading Harry into the pub. They grab a table next to the wall. The place is packed, even for a Friday night and the music’s louder than usual when Dan comes over to take their order.

“Why are you here on your night off?” Dan asks, taking out a pen.

Harry points at Nick.

“So, you’ll be wanting some chips then?” Dan asks but he’s already writing it down and Nick pats Harry on the knee.

“Uh, we’ll have a pitcher to start, and whatever Josh feels like making,” Harry says.

“Sounds good.”

Dan walks back toward the bar and Nick quickly swivels his head to look at Harry.

“What?” Harry says after Nick won’t stop staring at him.

“Please tell me that he’s—”

“He’s married, Grimmy…to a woman.”

“And just your type,” Nick snickers.

“Nothing about that is my type.”

Dan comes back out and sets a pitcher and two glasses on the table in front of them.

“Either way, young Harold, you can’t just sit around waiting for someone to magically show up. You gotta get out there.”

“And you gotta stop,” Harry says looking over at Nick from the top of his glass. “I’ve been in a relationship for seven years, I’m not looking to get back in another one right now.”

“Who said anything about a relationship,” Nick says waggling his eyebrows.

Harry shakes his head. “I’ve only been with one person my entire life…I don’t want a one-night stand. I still—” Harry cuts himself off from saying what he was about to say.  He’s been trying to move on from Niall, but there’s some comfort in knowing that Niall Horan is the only man he’s ever kissed. 

“Fine, but at least take up a hobby like a normal single person, yeah?”

Harry rolls his eyes. He gets up and goes over to the bar to tell Dan he needs something stronger than beer.

 

Harry leans into Nick. “This was a good idea,” Harry mumbles into his neck.

“You’re pissed,” Nick says with a laugh.

“Just a little.” Harry looks up across the bar.  Over at the corner table there is a group of younger guys. People Harry thinks he recognizes but he’s not entirely sure since it feels like the room is moving.

One of the men, catches his eye. He’s watching Harry. He’s tall and is pretty well stacked. Too much muscle for Harry’s liking. There’s something a little off putting about the guys face, that doesn’t sit well with Harry. A smile pulls up at the corner of the guy’s lips before he drops his gaze and his attention goes back to his friends.

“I think it’s about time we got you home,” Nick says. He goes to dig his wallet out of his back pocket when Harry tries to stand. “You ready to go?”

“I’ve got to wee,” Harry says, propping himself up on the table.

“You sure you’re gonna make it?” Nick looks him over curiously.

Harry waves him off.

“Well, I’m gonna settle the tab and I’ll wait for you out front. Air in here is doing my head in,” Nick says.

He keeps an eye on Harry until he finally makes it to the bathroom.

Harry holds himself up against the wall, trying to have some balance as he relieves himself.

He bumps into the wall on the way to the sink but manages to wash his hands.

Everything seems so far apart as he goes to get a paper towel to dry his hands. The room spins, slowly and quickly and every which way. His back is to the door when someone else walks in.

“You’re a fucking sight,” the man says.

Harry turns, maybe a little too quickly and his balance is once again thrown off.

“Easy there,” the man says, and he grabs Harry’s bicep and braces him against the wall.

The grip is too hard. He knows the face…maybe.

“I’m fine,” Harry protests.

The man lets go for only a moment. He turns and locks the bathroom door behind him.

Harry looks at him curiously. He sees the man now, his face is familiar and it’s not until he smiles that Harry recognizes him from out in the bar.

“What—What’re you doing?” Harry asks.

The man crowds him, pushing him up against the wall.  “I know you,” the man whispers and his breath smells like cigarettes. “Seen you behind the bar.” He starts kissing at Harry’s neck.

Harry puts his hands up to push him away, but the guy grabs his wrists and pins them against the wall above Harry’s head with one hand.

“Been watching you,” he says. His other hand slides up Harry’s shirt and down his torso.  “Been thinking about all the things I’d like to do to you.” His hand sits at Harry’s waist, tucking his thumb into the waistband of Harry’s jeans.

“S-Stop,” Harry chokes out. The room spins around him, he can’t focus enough to even move his legs.

“Shhh,” he says. He kisses Harry’s jaw and then his lips. “You taste like whiskey…I wonder how the rest of you tastes.”

He slips his hand down the back of Harry’s jeans and squeezes his ass. “Bet that little Irish faggot couldn’t fuck you like I could.”

He lets go of Harry’s hand for a moment and Harry tries to push against his chest, but before he knows it, the guy’s twisted him around, slamming his face against the wall, twisting his hand behind his back.

He leans up against him and Harry can feel the guy’s crotch against his backside.  “A feisty one, aren’t you? I like ‘em like that. Always makes it more fun.” He slides his hand around and dips it under Harry’s jeans. He’s touching him.  He can feel the man’s breath against his cheek, where he presses up against him from behind.

“S-Stop, please…” Harry chokes out.

He pulls Harry’s head back and slams it against the wall. “Shut up!” his whispers loudly into Harry’s ear.

He doesn’t stop touching him. The man’s palm slick with sweat against Harry and he feels like he’s going to vomit. He wants to go home. He wants to crawl into bed like this never happened. He just wants it to be over. He wants Niall.

Harry takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself, muster any amount of energy he might have. He gets loose for only a moment before the man grabs him by his throat and slams him against the wall.

Harry tries to pull at his arms, to release the pressure against his neck. He can’t breathe. He can’t scream.

The man starts unbuttoning Harry’s jeans, sliding them down his waist. “I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

Harry closes his eyes, pulling hard at the hand around his throat.  It’s all darkness. Louis, Liam, Niall…none of them are there this time. The pressure isn’t going away and he can’t breathe.

 God, Niall…

In that moment, Harry punches the guy in the stomach with everything he has.

The guy doubles back and before he can get his grip back, Harry punches him in the face, almost sending himself to the floor. Everything’s spinning as the guy falls back, hitting his head on the sink.

Harry steps back a moment, catching his breath, looking at the man passed out on the floor. 

His hand shakes as he tries to do up the button on his jeans. His throat is sore and raw. And the room won’t stop spinning.

He finds the door handle and unlocks it, practically stumbling out into the little hallway. He tries to collect himself as best he can, straightening up his shirt and wiping the tears from his eyes before he goes out into the bar.

Hardly anyone seems to notice him, as he walks across the pub toward the front door.  He can see Nick standing out there on his phone and Harry doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle the quietness of the walk home.

He walks out onto the sidewalk.

“Finally, thought you got lost or something,” Nick says looking up from his phone.  He takes in Harry’s face and even in the darkness he looks concerned. “Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Harry nods. His voice comes out hoarse, but he hopes that Nick will just chalk it up to the alcohol.

“You sure?” Nick asks looking Harry over.

Harry nods. “I just wanna go home.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Nick says, he goes to put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, but Harry moves away.

 

Harry practically has to beg Nick to go home. He can still feel the guy’s hands on him. All over him and he just wants to be alone.

He goes into the bathroom and he’s almost afraid to look in the mirror, to see all the things he didn’t want Nick to see. 

He starts the shower and as soon as he takes off his shirt he can see the bruises already starting to form on his arms and waist.  His neck is red and there are already faint signs of bruising there as well. A chill runs up his spine, bursting over his skin and it feels as if everything in him has disappeared. Cold and washed away with any bit of warmth stripped away from him.

Turns the water on higher until the steam is pouring out.  He gets in and scrubs his skin until it’s raw and red.  Even then, he can still feel his hands on him.

Harry sits down in the tub letting the water run over him; burning his skin.

This is what he gets, he thinks to himself. This is what he gets for staying in this place. This is what he gets for letting his friends go back to war while he stays safe at home. This is what he gets for not trying hard enough with Niall. For not being enough.

Harry sits there until the water runs cold, to the point where he’s shivering.

He grabs pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt from the dresser, throwing them on quickly before he catches a glimpse of himself in another mirror. He takes the blankets from the bed and throws them on the floor before he goes out to the living room to check the locks on the front door.

He takes the knife from the dresser drawer and situates himself in the corner of the room, with the blankets and pillows from the bed. 

He can’t help but hold onto the knife as he curls up into himself. He wants to go home but he doesn’t even know what that means anymore.

He doesn’t want to sleep, but his body and his mind are so tired. Thoughts pulling him every which way trying to make sense of any of it. He closes his eyes and he can see the guy’s face and he tries to think of anything else, but the only other person he can think of in that moment is Niall.

Niall smiling, making jokes, and holding Harry close. He can see and feel it all, even as it’s whisked away from him and replaced another face, another voice, another man’s touch and Harry wants it all to stop.

He lies there hoping that sleep or something stronger will take him away.

 

***

_“Been thinking about all the things I’d like to do to you.”_

_“I wonder how the rest of you tastes.”_

_“Bet that little Irish faggot couldn’t fuck you like I could.”_

_“A feisty one aren’t you? I like ‘em like that. Always makes it more fun.”_

_“I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”_

 

Harry wakes up still huddled in the corner. His limbs are stiff and the knife he was holding is now sitting beside him on the grey carpet. 

His head is pounding and for a moment he thinks that maybe none of it happened. Maybe it was just a dream, but when he goes into the bathroom, he can see the bruises on his neck. That’s going to be hard to cover up for work.

As far as Nick knows, Harry was drunk when he went inside, and that’s not entirely off, any matter of things could have happened that Harry doesn’t remember, which resulted in such a strange bruise. Of course, Harry knows exactly what happened, but he can’t bring himself to even entertain the idea of telling anyone.

Harry looks at himself in the mirror. His green irises surrounded by the bloodshot red of little sleep and a lot of stress.

He feels it in his stomach first, then it creeps up to his throat and before Harry knows it, he’s spilling the former contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He rinses his mouth out at the sink. Fingers touching his lips momentarily until he’s throwing up again. He sits on the floor and leans back against the tub.

He lifts the bottom of his sweatshirt a little ways and brushes his thumb over the bruises on his hip. 

Harry goes out to the kitchen and sees the letter he wrote to Liam just sitting there against the fruit bowl. He picks it up, examining it for a moment before he rips it up and throws it in the trash.

The words on those pages seem like a lie now. He can’t lie to Liam, not when things are like this. So, not telling him anything seems like the right way to go.

 

Harry puts a stiff black sweatshirt on to go to work, it covers his neck enough that he shouldn’t get too many questions. 

“Surprised you came in after last night,” Bressie says when he comes out from the back.

Harry’s already been there for about half an hour. He can’t bring himself to make eye contact with any of the patrons. He gives Bressie a quick nod, trying to keep his head down.

“Dan said that you were quite out of it when you left…surprised you made it home.” Bressie counts the money in the register.

“Nick was with me,” Harry says. His voice is still hoarse.

“You starting to get sick or something? You don’t sound too well,” Bressie asks looking over at Harry.

“I’m fine,” Harry mumbles.

Bressie closes the register. “Seriously, mate. You don’t sound too good.”

Harry shrugs it off.

“Look at me, Harry,” Bressie says next and Harry can feel his heart start racing in his chest.

“I’m fine—”

Bressie steps in beside Harry, turning him so he can see his face. Bressie’s hand goes to Harry’s cheek, lifting up his face. “Jesus Christ, H. What the hell happened to you?” Bressie pulls down the front of Harry’s sweatshirt and makes a face. “You have a run in with somebody or something?”

Harry bats Bressie’s hand away and turns back to the bar. “Happened after I got home, I guess. I don’t remember much.”

“Looks like somebody tried to strangle you,” Bressie asserts. “You sure you’re alright?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, just had too much to drink last night.”

He can feel Bressie’s eyes on him. It almost hurts knowing that Bressie is worried.

In any other situation, Harry would’ve been able to fight the guy off before anything happened. He has the training for it but throw a few drinks in him and he’s just as helpless any other person. Maybe there’s a piece of him that’s angry at himself and maybe a piece that’s angry at Nick, or Bressie, or Dan, for not being there.

“You’d tell me if something serious was happening with you, right?” Bressie asks.

Harry nods. “Yeah…”

 _Happening_ implied that it was something ongoing, and maybe it still was, but it already happened, and nothing can be helped about that.

Harry finishes out his shift and leaves before Bressie can try to talk to him again. It’s almost two a.m. and he still has to walk home.

Harry’s starting to get used to it though, maybe even enjoying the quietness of the town in the middle of the night. Passing the music store, the barber’s shop, and the tiny Chinese food place where the alley perpetually smells like Chinese food even now after they’ve been closed for hours.

 

 

“Can you do me a favor?” Bressie asks coming out from the back. It’s Tuesday night and they’d probably be closed by now if it wasn’t for the group of younger guys, who seem to be having some sort of reunion, still ordering drinks and food.

“What’s up?” Harry asks looking over at Bressie in between pouring another round of drinks.

“Friend of mine’s havin’ a tough night.  Would you mind closing?” Bressie is already putting his coat on. “I left the instructions for closing out the register on my desk and aside from that you just have to make sure everything’s off before you leave. I know it pushes you past your normal hours, but I’ll—”

“Just leave me the keys to lock up,” Harry says putting out his hand.

Bressie opens the register and pulls out a key and puts it in Harry’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Just go, I’ll text you when I leave,” Harry says.

Bressie smiles and Harry watches as he exits the pub and disappears down the street.

Harry wonders if Bressie ever gets a break or if he wants a break. Between the pub and dealing with the issues of various friends, Bressie’s stretched thin. Harry knows that and that’s why he hates to lean on him.

Harry tells Josh to shut things down in the kitchen, they aren’t waiting around until the early hours of the morning for these guys to leave.

He starts to clean things up behind the bar.  He looks up and sees the man that owns the laundromat across the street closing up.  Someone passes by the front window of the pub, pausing a moment to look inside before continuing on down the sidewalk toward the Chinese food place.

The group of guys start to wind down and eventually they stand up and start putting on jackets before one of them comes over to settle the tab.  They were nice enough about it all and didn’t make a mess at the table, not to mention the decent tip that they left for staying so late.

Harry locks the door and turns off the open sign when they leave so he and Josh can finish cleaning up. 

Luckily, while Harry’s dealing with the cash register, Josh come out from the kitchen and starts sweeping in the bar area, so Harry didn’t have to, which was nice for a change.

He lets Josh leave after that. No point in holding both of them up to go home.

Harry counts the cash and sticks it in the safe in Bressie’s office before he shuts the door, pulling on it until he hears the click. He tests the handle to make sure it’s locked before heading out front. He turns off all the lights and the radio, and exits out the front, making sure to lock the door behind him. 

He runs through everything as he walks down the sidewalk, making sure that he didn’t forget anything, before he texts Bressie that everything is closed up. 

He’s supposed to do the day shift on Thursday and for some reason that gap of time in between being back there makes him nervous, like if he did forget to do something that he’d have to wait a day to make it right.  It’s a ridiculous line of thinking. Bressie would never yell at him, or anyone that works there, and not only because everyone that works there has military training.

He can smell the Chinese restaurant before he even gets to the barber’s shop.  The dumpster that sits in the alley way next to the building always smell like Chinese food, which is both nice and disturbing at the same time. He hears his stomach grumble and wishes that the restaurant was still open. He’ll have to settle for whatever he has at home though.

“Hey, faggot.”

Harry turns and someone hits him over the head. He falls to the ground, scrabbling to get back up, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in the back of his head.

Two more guys grab him from behind as another one punches him in the face over and over. He manages to get one arm loose elbowing one of the guys holding him in the nose.

He can hardly even see straight in the darkness, they corral him into the alleyway. There’s four of them, he thinks. He can’t see their faces.

“Is the little bitch scared?” one asks in a menacing tone. 

Harry doesn’t have a chance to defend himself before they charge him, knocking him to the ground. Kicking him over and over in the stomach.  Harry curls in trying to make himself as small as possible as they continue to hit him.

He just wants it to stop and suddenly it does, at least for a moment when one of them kneels on his chest, pulling his head up by the collar of his jacket.

“Bet you regret hitting me now, you stupid little faggot,” the man whispers to Harry. His voice sits in Harry’s ears, rushing throughout his entire body. The same voice that keeps him from sleeping. He hits Harry in the face more times than he can count. Over and over until he lets go, letting Harry’s head hit the pavement.

Harry rolls onto his side. He can taste the blood in his mouth. The raw iron taste on his tongue.  He tries to breathe. Tries to take some much needed air into his lungs, but it feels impossible with the pain in his ribcage.

“You should’ve just stayed over there and gotten yourself blown up with the rest of those fags,” the man sneers. “You ever touch me again and I’ll blow your fucking head off.” He spits on Harry, before kicking him one more time for good measure.

They leave him there, lying on the cold pavement.  He can hear them laughing as the carry on down the street.

Every bit of movement sends a ripple of pain throughout his entire body. He can hardly see out of his left eye, and he doesn’t know if he’s crying or if there’s blood in his eyes…maybe both.

Lying there in the darkness of the alley, Harry’s mind wanders. He thinks about all the things that lead to this moment, trying to figure out what decision he made that warranted this. Beaten, bloody, and alone in an alleyway that smells of Chinese food.

He sways in and out of consciousness. Darkness fading out into the blurred image of the filthy alleyway. He’s so tired. So weak. He wants the pain to disappear and to sleep for the rest of his life.

He wants to give up. Close his eyes and hope that he doesn’t wake up this time. There’s no reinforcements, there’s no Louis, Liam, or Niall that’s going to help him.

Maybe it’s that thought that makes him bear the pain of reaching into his back pocket for his phone. He ones his eyes, just barely to see the entire screen is cracked and he shoves it back in his pocket. _No one’s coming for you,_ he thinks to himself. _You’re going to die, so what are you going to do to stop it?_

Harry tries to move his legs and it seems like a good sign when they do move. If he can move his legs, he can stand, and if he can stand, he can walk.

He drags himself up, pulling himself to his feet. Every part of his body screams against the movement. Yelling and calling out for him to stop; to lie down and take whatever comes.

He can feel the blood dripping down his face.  The objects and walls around him, shift and blur in and out of a dense haze fogging his eyes.

He just wants to get home. Home where he can lock himself away and if he’s going to die he’ll die in peace.

He walks, slugging his way down the sidewalk, using lamp posts and walls for support. There’s nothing from the time he gets to the outskirts of town, and closer to home. And every bit of will power he has is fighting the urge to sit down and give up.

He makes it to the front steps of their house. Pulling himself up the stairs by the railing, leaning against the front door as he struggles to put the key in the lock. 

He gets inside, closing and locking the door before he tries walking further into the house. His body feels even heavier now. His mind and eyes more clouded. 

Harry uses the back of the couch for support as he reaches for the phone on the end table.  He stares at the buttons, they set up emergency speed dials once, he can’t remember the number, or whatever number he was thinking of. Maybe he knows it deep down. He just wants to hear his voice one last time.

His thumbs shake over the numbers. He needs to lie down.

Harry slides to the floor as the room starts to spin. He squeezes the phone in his hand and he can hear the ringing. He starts to lie down and he’s out before his head hits the floor.

The ringing continues on the other end of the line until the voicemail picks up.

“Hey, you’ve reached Nick Grimshaw, leave a message or don’t, I really don’t care.” There’s a beep and silence.

 

 

 

There’s an even beep. It’s all white and clean and smelling of bleach. 

“Harry?”

Harry blinks, everything is still muffled and hazy.  He can hardly see out of his left eye, but he can see Nick sitting in a chair next to his bed.

“The fuck did you do?” Harry mumbles. His throat is dry and hoarse, and he can feel it even more when he speaks.

Nick leans back shaking his head. “You called me and didn’t leave a voicemail,” Nick says pointedly. “Plus, you called from your house phone and you never do that.” Nick stands up and walks around the bed. “Not to mention that when I got to your house there was blood on the railing and the doorway and then I found you beaten and half dead on your living room floor.” Nick looks at Harry indignantly. “ _What the fuck did I do?_ ” he echoes. “Fucking hell, Harry. I saved your bloody life. Or was that counterproductive? Did you want to die?”

Harry closes his eyes and tries to swallow.

“I mean you had the phone with you, so clearly you where trying to at least call for some sort of help.” Nick leans against the wall.

Harry looks at Nick. It’s a look that tells him he’s wrong and Harry watches as Nick finally understands.

Nick shakes his head, biting at his lip, looking anywhere but at Harry.

“Things were going well, Harry, I don’t get it. Cause if this is about him…” Nick looks at Harry.  “He’s not here, Harry. He left you, get over it. Figure out how to take care of yourself, for fuck’s sake. I’m tired of babysitting you. I mean…I thought you were dead when I found you on the floor.” Nick stares down at the floor. “I don’t know who did this to you or why, and I’m not blaming you for this happening, but at least pretend to thank me or something. I was worried sick about you, sitting here waiting for you to wake up, and you say that to me. _What the fuck did I do?_ ” Nick looks out the window. It’s just starting to get light outside. “Your mum and Gemma are on their way up here, probably be here in an hour or so…I’m gonna go take a walk or something.”

Nick walks out of the room without another word.

Harry closes his eyes. Nick has every right to be mad at him. He’s dragged Nick through all of this shit with him for the past few months. He’s lied to him. Not told him about things he probably should’ve. He hates it though…the way that he’s so dependent on Nick and Bressie. They go out of their way to check on him, to ask how he’s doing, to try and put his life back on track, and he’s so stuck in his own self-misery that he can’t give anything good back them.

 

Harry wakes up later in the day and Gemma’s sitting next to his bed.

She closes the book she’s reading and gives a soft smile. “Hey, baby brother,” she says leaning forward to hold Harry’s hand. “You look like shit.”

“Nick shouldn’t’ve called you,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, well, he did. Mum and I have been worried enough about you as is and then to get a call like that?” Gemma sighs. “’m just happy you’re gonna be alright.”

“Where’s mum?”

“She went to go track down your doctor and to be honest, she seemed intent on talking to Nick when we got here as well…she knows old scars and bruises when she sees ‘em, Harry.” She gestures to Harry’s neck. Gemma looks at him with sad eyes. “What the hell happened, Harry?”

Harry shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter…”

“You still had your wallet with all your cash and cards on you when they brought you in. This wasn’t some random mugging—”

“It’s nothing,” Harry says harshly.

Gemma lets go of his hand, sits back, and sighs. “I don’t get it…I mean, did you get into something? Did you do something stupid and this was some sort of payback? Why won’t you tell me what happened?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t do anything,” Harry says as a wave of pain come over his body. There’s a loud commotion down the hallway followed by yelling and things being thrown. Harry closes his eyes. He can feel the darkness creeping over his vision.

“Harry?” Gemma says in a worried tone.

 _“You’re gonna be fine, mate.”_ Liam voice echoes inside his brain.

“Get out of here, Gemma,” Harry says. His breathing is picking up and he can feel his heart racing in his chest. He tries to roll onto his side, facing away from his sister.

“Harry?”

He clenches at his shoulder.

_“It’s gonna be okay, Harry,” Niall says._

“Niall…”

“Harry? What’s happening?” Gemma’s voice slips through.

“I don’t wanna die…” Harry chokes out.

“Harry? Harry, mate, it’s Nick, you’re alright, just open your eyes.”

_“You’re gonna be fine,” Niall says._

“Niall…”

“Harry, come on, babes. Just look at me, alright? Everything’s fine. Just open your eyes!”

Harry’s eyes burst open, and he sees Nick kneeling beside the bed, holding his hand.

“Hey…you with us?”

Harry breathes out, nodding slowly.

Nick looks over Harry at Gemma.

“I’m gonna go get the doctor, alright?” Nick says. “Come on, Gem, let’s just give him a minute, yeah?”

Gemma nods, following Nick back out of the room.

Harry lies there on his side, afraid to roll back over onto his back. He just wants everyone to leave him alone. He just wants to go home and be by himself again.

 

He wakes up and it’s dark outside. He doesn’t even know how long he was out for. His room is empty for a change and there’s a bag sitting on the nightstand. He recognizes it from his house, which means that someone went there while he was sleeping.

There are enough drugs running through his system that it feels more like he’s stiff than in pain. He hates the incessant sound of the heart monitor.

Harry sits up in bed, against his better judgement and grabs the bag from the nightstand. He opens it up to find a change of clothes. It’s just pajama pants, underwear, a t-shirt, and his black sweatshirt. 

He starts unhooking wires and the oxygen tubes from himself. The IV drip is the worst, but once you’ve been shot, pulling a needle out of your arm doesn’t seem so bad.

Little by little, and as slow as possible he starts getting dressed. His ribs are bandaged up, and it’s impossible to bend over, but he makes do. He puts on the same pair of dirty converse he was wearing the night he got jumped.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Harry looks over and sees Nick standing in the doorway of his room.

“’m going home,” Harry says. He puts the plastic bag the hospital put his old clothes in into the canvas bag from his house.

“Don’t think that’s really a good idea,” Nick says. “You’ve got a concussion, a fractured rib, and enough bruising that it looks Jackson Pollock got carried away with the purple paint on half your body.”

“I can’t stay here,” Harry says.

“Your mum and Gemma will be back in the morning, at least stay until then. You’ve been asleep for almost two days and your mum hasn’t gotten to talk to you. She’s still worried.”

Harry looks at Nick. “There’s nothing she can do. You shouldn’t have called them.”

“Harry, for the love of god, just stay.” Nick steps in front of him. “I don’t know why you’ve been so self-destructive lately, but leaving now isn’t going to make anything better. I can’t let you leave, not in the state you’re in.”

“Get out of my way, Nick.”

“No, I told you I’m not—”

Harry grabs the front of Nick’s shirt and pins him to the wall.

He can feel his body fight against the movement. He can see the anger in his own eyes reflected in the fear in Nick’s eyes.

“Get the fuck out of my way and stay away from me, Nick,” Harry says through clenched teeth. “There isn’t anything you or anyone else can do for me, so just leave me the fuck alone.”

Harry lets go, and he can feel his heart pounding as a wave of pain creeps over his body and Nick slides onto the floor.

Harry’s hands shake as the adrenaline passes through his body. He makes his way down to the lobby and calls for a cab, not bothering with signing out or anything.

 

He asks the cabby to wait for him outside his house.  He goes inside, the blood still staining the wood floor behind the couch. He goes into his room, packs up some clothes, and goes back out to the cab.

They drive the little ways into town and he gets out by the sidewalk, almost falling over when he bends over to give the cabby his money.

The open sign is off at the pub, but the lights are still on in the back. He knocks on the door and sees Bressie pop up from behind the bar.  He comes over and unlocks the door.

“Jaysus Christ, Harry. It’s two in the mornin’, what the hell are you doing here?” Bressie looks him over and Harry must really look like shit, given the look on Bressie’s face.

“Everyone has a key to my house. I just need a couple hours,” Harry says.

“Fair enough,” Bressie says and he lets Harry into the pub and locks the door again behind him. “I’ll help you up the stairs.” Bressie takes Harry’s bags from him and stays behind him, with a hand at his back as Harry makes his way up the stairs to Bressie’s flat overtop the pub.

“Extra bed is just over there.” Bressie points to the twin bed next to the window. There’s a curtain that sections off a small area.

“I know, I remember,” Harry says. He can’t even tell how many times he’s been in that bed. After Niall turned eighteen, he couldn’t live with his foster parents anymore and moved in with Bressie. 

Bressie didn’t really have a proper space for him, so he got a bed and put up a thick curtain, so Niall would at least have some privacy.  He caught Harry and Niall in that bed more times than he could count. Maybe in some weird way, Bressie was Niall’s older brother and his father at the same time. Harry was always sure that a lot of the good in Niall was because of Bressie.

“There’s a plug over there if you need to charge your phone or whatever,” Bressie says.

“My phones busted.” Harry says sitting down on the bed. He takes his broken phone out of the hospital bag. He looks at the phone for a moment, running his thumb over the cracked screen.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Bressie says.

Harry looks up at him. “For what?”

“I asked you to lock up the other night…left you here by yourself.”

“You didn’t do this,” Harry says, setting the phone down on the nightstand. “This was gonna happen whether you were here or not.”

Bressie looks at him for a moment. “Who did this, Harry?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry says shaking his head.

Bressie comes over and sits on the bed next to him. “You came to work with bruises on your neck and a couple days later something like this happens? How does that not matter?”

“Nothing I can do about it now…it’s over and done with.”

Bressie sighs. “You don’t think you deserved this, right?”

“I don’t know what I think anymore,” Harry says quietly. “I didn’t want to die in that alley, so I dragged myself home. Figured it was a more respectable place to bite it.”

Bressie looks like he’s about to cry, which isn’t something Harry’s ever seen in the entire time he’s known the Irishman. “Well, whatever you are thinking,” he starts to say. “Don’t think that you can leave us that easily. Niall might’ve left, but Louis, Liam, your family, me…we’d all be crushed if something happened to you.” Bressie looks at Harry and smiles. “Get some sleep. I’ll come up and check on ya every once in a while, make sure you’re alright.”

Bressie gets up from the bed. He pauses at the door, looking back at Harry before he goes back downstairs to the bar.

Harry lies down on the bed. It’s almost weird being in that bed alone; in the past, he always had Niall there beside him. The two of them wrapped around each other on the single person bed.

 

He can hear Bressie talking on the phone with someone when he wakes up later in the day.

“He’s fine. He’s just sleeping.” Bressie’s in the kitchen of the flat. Harry can hear something sizzling on the stovetop. “He just wants to be alone for a little while and honestly, with the way he’s been going lately, calling up his mum and Gemma probably wasn’t the best idea.”  Bressie pauses and Harry thinks he can hear Nick yelling on the other end. “At your worst, how badly do you want to see your family?” “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” “Pain-wise, I don’t know, like I said, he’s been sleeping, the meds are gonna wear off soon enough and he’s gonna want to throw himself off the roof because of the amount pain he’ll be in.” “That’s probably a good idea…I don’t know what happened, that’s for the two of you to work out, but…no, I was exaggerating, but he will be in a lot of pain, if he’s not already.” “Yeah, fine. I’ll deal with it until then.” Bressie hangs up and tosses his phone on the counter.

Harry stays in bed for a little while longer before he finally wills himself to sit up, which is a mistake, as the moment he moves, he can feel the pain ripple through his body.

He tries to hide it from Bressie when he comes rushing over to stop Harry from moving.

“Probably not a good idea, lad,” Bressie says.

“’m fine…”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s why your face went as white as a ghost,” Bressie says and he adjusts the pillow behind Harry’s head, so he’s at least sitting up a little bit.

Harry looks over to the nightstand and sees a phone charging. “What’s that?”

Bressie looks over to see what Harry is talking about. “Oh, I took your phone to the store and they were able to transfer all your contacts, pictures, and whatnot over.”

“You bought me a new phone?” Harry looks at Bressie curiously.

“Yeah…” Bressie rubs the back of his head. “Wasn’t that hard. You should probably change your passwords and all that, only took me a couple guesses to figure out what Niall set them as.”

“Right…”

“Anyway,” Bressie says turning back toward the kitchen. “Makin’ super if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Harry watches Bressie for a moment. “Hey, Bressie?”

“Yeah?” Bressie looks at him from across the room.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“’s no problem. I don’t have much for family around here, but I’ve always had you and the other lads.”

Harry nods. He knows how that feels. When his mum and sister moved further south after they all left for their first tour, it was weird coming home and not having them around. Bressie and Nick were always good familiar faces to see when they came home on leave for a couple weeks.

 

Harry doesn’t eat much and he feels bad since Bressie went through the trouble of making dinner which wasn’t something he did on a regular basis since he had a tendency to eat down in the pub.

But when Bressie goes back downstairs, Harry’s in too much pain to sleep, so he tries to take his mind off of it by playing with the new cell phone Bressie got.

He’s scrolling through pictures. Admiring how many times Louis’ stolen his phone and taken a bunch of stupid selfies with it. There’s pictures of the lads after a night of heavy drinking, passed out in Niall and Harry’s living room.

He scrolls far enough and comes across a video. He’d almost forgotten all about it, but as soon as he presses play, it all comes back to him.

It’s of Niall, sitting on the couch with his guitar in his hands. He’s just playing random things and Harry urges him to play a song.

_“Come on, I know you know at least one,” Harry says behind the camera._

_“I’ll probably mess it up,” Niall says with a laugh._

_“I don’t care. Just make something up, then I won’t know it’s wrong.”_

_Niall looks at the camera, his cheeks blushing, as he tries to hide the goofy smile on his face. “Alright,” he finally gives in. “But just don’t show anyone, yeah?”_

_“Promise.”_

_Niall starts to play. It’s upbeat but gentle at the same time before he starts to sing. “’Cause if the whole world was watchin’ I’d still dance with you. Drive highways and byways to be there with you. Over and over the only truth. Everything comes back to you.” Niall peeks up at the camera, smiles, and starts singing to Harry. “You still make me nervous when you walk in the room. Them butterflies they come alive when I’m next to you. Over and over the only truth. Everything comes back to you.” Niall slows a little bit. “Everything comes back to you. Mmmhm hmm mmm.”  Niall hits the last chord and laughs looking over at Harry with the camera._

_“As if I could love you more,” Harry gushes making Niall laugh, hiding the redness creeping into his cheeks behind his guitar._

The video stops after that and the room feels quiet again.

He hates the way the tears sting his eyes. There was so much. They had so much and they both let it wash away.

There’s a knock at the door and Bressie pokes his head into the flat. “Someone’s here to see you, if that’s alright?”

Harry wipes his face and nods.

Bressie moves aside and Nick walks into the flat carrying a white paper bag.

“I’ll be downstairs if ya need me,” Bressie says as he closes the door leaving Nick and Harry by themselves.

“Your mum got your prescription filled,” Nick says setting the bag on the table. “I convinced her and Gemma to go back home, that you’d call when you were ready.”

“Thanks for that,” Harry says. He sits at the edge of the bed for a moment before he gets the strength to stand up. His legs almost buckle underneath him, but Nick’s by his side in a second, holding him up, and helping him over to one of the chairs at the kitchen table, before he gets Harry some water from the kitchen. Harry takes the pills from the prescription bag. He hopes that they kick in quickly.

Nick sits down in the chair across from him.

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that…I’m sorry,” Harry says quietly. “You were just trying to help, and I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t found me on the floor at my house.”

“I didn’t exactly stay level-headed myself,” Nick adds. “I don’t know…I didn’t get it before.”

“Before?” Harry asks looking over at him.

“I didn’t get why you’d be so mad about getting help or your family seeing you like that but I think I sort of get it now.”

“I’m glad you do, ‘cause I’m not even sure why…”

“I knew it the moment I saw you lot when you got home,” Nick says easily. “Something was different, but around everyone but yourselves, you tried to act like you were the same doe-eyed boys that left here four years ago. You hate the idea of relying on anyone and you hate the idea of your family finding out that you’ve changed.”

“You’ve figured all that out just in the last few hours?”

“I’m much more preceptive than people think,” Nick states with a small smile. “My point is that having something like that happen to you when you’re already having a tough go of it, can’t be easy. And I just want you to know that you’re not a burden to me. You’re my friend…my best friend in fact, despite someone mistaking me as your father a few years back. And I might not have put on a uniform and pledged to throw myself in front of a bullet for you, but I would.”

“I’d do the same for you, ya know…” Harry says coyly looking at Nick.

“Good to know, but in your current state the only place you can probably throw yourself is on the floor.” Nick laughs and Harry, despite the pain he’s in, laughs along with him.

Harry takes a few sips of water and looks at the floor. “To answer your question, from I don’t even know how my days or hours ago…I don’t know if any of this is about Niall.” Harry rubs his thumb over the faint bruises across the knuckles of his right hand. “I know I miss him. I think I still love him or maybe I hate him…I don’t really know. Maybe both. And I think that there was some truth in why he went back and that’s kind of got me trying to reevaluate things in my head, I guess.”

“Fair enough,” Nick replies. “So, are you staying here, or you can stay at mine, or I can get you home…whatever option, I think it’s best that you’re not alone, but think of it more as unsupervised supervision. You can sleep and whatnot, but someone has to be there to make sure you don’t drop dead or something.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Harry says.

 

 

“Brez, can you send this for me,” Harry says handing Bressie an envelope. “I’ll pay you back for postage.”

Bressie looks at the letter. “Liam?” he questions looking at Harry curiously. “What exactly…what exactly did you…how much did you tell him?”

“I said that everything was fine over here. That Nick’s been a pain in my ass, but he says ‘hi’, that you’re doing well and I’ve been working at the pub, and that I got to see Gemma the other day, which was unexpected, but nice nonetheless.”

“So, you lied to him?”

“Bent the truth. They don’t need to know about all this, trust me. The last thing any soldier wants to hear is that things at home are shit.”

“You’re going to still have scars when they get back,” Bressie says. “They’re gonna have questions.”

“Key words being ‘when they get back’. Until then, things here are just peachy.”

“Says the man with a swollen eye and fractured rib,” Bressie whispers to himself, but Harry hears him.

“I can send it myself if you won’t,” Harry says.

Bressie waves him off. “No, it’s fine. I get it. I’ll send your lies.”          

 

 

Harry stays at Bressie’s for a couple more days before he goes back home. Nick insists on staying with him and that Harry sleep in a proper bed.

It’s weird sleeping in his bed. He hasn’t slept there since the night Niall left. He’s taken the blankets, slept on the floor, on the couch, or not at all. So, having to stay there for most of the day until his ribs fully heal is going to be a challenge.

“I honestly don’t know how you did it,” Nick says one morning while they’re eating breakfast. When he got back from work, Harry was still asleep, so Nick put himself to the task of making a proper breakfast for them even though he already ate.

Harry’s sitting on the couch holding onto his mug of tea while Nick sits at the counter. “How I did what?” Harry asks over his shoulder.

“How you managed to get back here after what they did to you and then getting out of bed and making it all the way to Bressie’s…I just don’t get it.” Nick sets down the newspaper he was reading and walks over to sit in the chair in the living room.

Harry shrugs. “I dunno…” he thinks about it for a moment. “I guess when I got shot during our last tour, I thought I was going to die in some stupid village in the middle of nowhere…guess this time around, I didn’t want to die in an alley that smelled like Chinese food. Getting to Bressie’s was just me being stubborn and not wanting to deal with you and my mum.”

“Thanks, that really makes me feel special,” Nick deadpans. Nick looks at Harry. “You’re gonna alright, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry says with a nod. “Few more days and I’ll be back at work…give it a month, you’ll forget that most of this even happened.”

“Still can’t believe you didn’t talk to the police,” Nick says.

“There wasn’t much to tell,” Harry says quietly.  And maybe Nick knew that was bullshit. He’s spent enough time with Harry over the last few days to know that the only time Harry sleeps is when it’s medically induced. He dreams about what happened in the bathroom of the pub, the guys jumping him on the way home, being back in the war, and maybe the worst of it all, Niall.

He’s had dreams about good times, good times turning bad, either one of them dying and Harry wakes up with every regret when it comes to Niall. Regretting letting him go back, regretting pushing him away, regretting holding him too close, regretting not going back with him. Sometimes he thinks that he didn’t talk to the police because in some weird, twisted way, he wanted to make himself think that he could survive and continue on with his life without Niall.

 

 

Harry goes back to work two weeks later. Bressie refused to put him on the schedule until he saw fit. Harry still has cuts and light bruising on his face and ribs.  He knows there will be a noticeable scar on his left cheek. The cut was deep from the rings on the guy’s fingers. There will be a few more peppered around the left side of his face.  Or as Nick said, “Guess your modeling career is over”.

Bressie keeps a close eye on Harry at work and when Bressie’s not there, Dan has a tendency to watch him on busy nights when they work together.  Dan unlike Bressie was a little worried about Harry using a knife and stared at him the entire time he sliced up the garnishes.

When he goes home that night, he sleeps on the couch. It’s probably going to kill his back, but with Nick finally gone, he could go back to his self-destructive behavior.

A week later, his back isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He’ll have to start switching it out for sleeping on the floor on an every other day basis or something.

Harry lies there on the couch half asleep, fidgeting with his ID tags and the lone and heavy wedding band that hangs off it. To Harry Love Niall. Maybe that was the issue, Niall gave all his love to Harry and, in the end, Harry didn’t know what to do with Niall when there was nothing left in him.

There were too many maybes.  Niall’s note said he wanted to be with him, but that he couldn’t live a normal life.  Harry thinks that all those months ago, if he was given the choice, he would’ve gone with Niall and spent the rest of his life in the military if it meant he got to be with Niall.  He’d screw up the rest of his life, or possibly lose his life, just to be near Niall and he knows that wasn’t a healthy way to go about things. Harry didn’t want to go back, he’d had enough of war, thought Niall did too, but instead Niall went running back to the thing that felt the most familiar to him…though only a couple years ago, Harry thought that would’ve been him.

He drifts off, hand still clenched around the ring.  The house seems so empty without Niall and maybe it’s just that now Nick’s not living there with him either that he really notices it.

 

Harry wakes up when the house phone rings.  He looks at the clock by the TV, 2:17 a.m..

Harry sits up and picks up the phone, putting it to his ear. “Hello?”

There’s static on the other line and Harry sits there listening.

“Harry…” Louis’ voice comes through.

Harry can hear it in Louis’ voice. “Lou, what’s wrong?”

Louis breathes out slowly. “I don’t…I don’t even know…I didn’t know what else to do. The car just exploded, Harry.”

Dread washes over Harry and he sits up, putting his feet on the floor. “Which…which one, Lou? Which one of them was it?”

Louis breathes in a shaky breath. “It’s Niall, Harry…”

Harry closes his eyes and rubs his face with his hand.

“It was supposed to be a routine check.  The car just exploded,” Louis repeats. “Niall, he—”

“Is he dead?” Harry forces out. “Louis, is Niall dead?” he says quickly.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” Louis says quietly.  “He was still alive when we got him back to the base, but…it was bad, Harry. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. And Liam…god, Liam’s a mess and I just didn’t know what to do and I know I’m not supposed to make calls like this, I just…It’s Niall, ya know? And Clifford is dead. Niall tried to pull him back but…I can’t do this, Harry. I can’t keep going like this, not now.”

Louis’ words sit heavy in Harry’s mind, but as much as he wants to breakdown, he can’t. Louis called him because he didn’t know what else to do.

“Lou, whatever happens, it’s going to be alright,” Harry says softly though he’s not sure that he believes it himself. “Niall and Liam love you and so do I. You just need to take it in strides no matter what happens.”

Louis sniffs. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve never called you with this. I should’ve waited. I just—” Louis’ quiet for a moment and suddenly, Harry hates the space between them. He wishes he could be there for him and Liam. He wishes that he would’ve kept Niall from leaving in the first place. He wishes that none of them had ever joined up. That they would’ve just lived boring lives and fell into routines and never gotten mixed up in all of this.

But it’s too late for that.

“Look uh…” Louis starts to say. “We have a debriefing and then they’re sending us back out. Harry…I really am sorry…about everything.”

“I know…”

“I wish I could tell you to forget about all this. I should’ve never called you.” Louis sniffs.

“I know.”

“I’ll try to call you as soon as we know something either way…take care of yourself, Haz.”

Louis hangs up before Harry can say anything else, leaving him empty, numb, and alone in his living room.

Harry sits there for hours. Staring at nothing as it slowly gets lighter outside and the sun comes up. He can’t bring himself to move. If he moves, it feels like he’ll shatter into a million pieces. Feeling like every inch of him will weigh so much and crack and scatter the floor the moment he stands up. Harry suddenly wishes that they had killed him in that alleyway or maybe even before that. Maybe he should’ve died in Niall’s arms in the back of that Humvee.

Niall seems even further away than ever.

He sits there a while longer until there’s a knock at the door. He dreads it for a moment, but it’s too soon for the army to be giving notice, but Nick has a tendency to just use his key and doesn’t bother knocking at all.

Harry moves for the first time in hours. He’s tried and a bit shaky when he answers the door to see Gemma standing there with a smile on her face.

“Good morning, baby brother,” Gemma says stepping into the house. She sets her bag down and takes off her coat, throwing it over the back of the couch. “Was driving through the area and thought I’d stop by to see how my favorite and distant little brother is.” Gemma looks at him waiting for some response.  “Is everything alright, Harry?” she says in a more serious tone.

Harry pauses and gives a small nod. “Yeah…” he wipes at his face. “Just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“You look more like you didn’t get any sleep last night,” Gemma quips. She walks toward the kitchen. “Do you actually have anything to eat in this house, god knows you were never good at keeping a stocked fridge, that was always Niall’s job.”

Harry stomach lurches and he runs into the bathroom, slamming the door closed, before he throws up into the toilet.

Niall… the name hangs in his mouth, but he can’t bring himself to say it.

Gemma knocks on the door. “Harry, are you alright?”

Harry flushes the toilet, stands up, and rinses his mouth out in the sink before he opens the door. “I’m fine,” he says as he walks pass Gemma, who has a worried look on her face.

Gemma pulls him back and presses her hand to his face. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Harry says knocking his sister’s hand away. He walks out to the kitchen and starts making tea, more for just something to do so he doesn’t have to look at his sister.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Gemma says quietly. “The last time I saw you, you were in the hospital. The only reason mum and I haven’t stormed your house is because Nick’s been sending us updates.”

Harry slams the box of tea bags on the counter. “Of course, he is…because why the fuck not,” he says more to himself.

“You can’t blame him. You don’t talk to any of us anymore…not like you used to.”

“Things have changed,” Harry replies harshly.

Gemma sighs. “I know that you think we don’t get it. That we won’t understand what happened while you were deployed because we weren’t there.”

“You weren’t,” Harry says looking at his sister. “I’ve killed people, Gemma. I’ve had people try to kill me over there and at home, so excuse me if I’m forthcoming with every little detail of my life. Because it is my life we’re talking about here. No one seems to understand that. Everyone just thinks I want to off myself because Niall left me, well I have news for you. My world doesn’t revolve around Niall Horan. He left and he’s never coming back.”

“Maybe he will. You don’t know that,” Gemma says softly.

“No, he won’t, trust me. Besides, it’s no longer my problem or my worry what Niall’s doing, where he is, whether he’s dead or alive. It’s not my fucking problem anymore.”

Gemma looks hurt in a way that Harry doesn’t quite understand, and she starts backing up. She grabs her coat from the back of the couch.  “I don’t know what your fucking problem is. I came here to see how you were doing and I guess I got my answer because you’re an even bigger asshole now than you were when you left that hospital.” Gemma grabs her bag off the floor. “God, no wonder Niall left you.” Gemma slams the front door shut behind her when she leaves.

Harry slips down onto the floor, putting his head in between his knees, breathing through the wave of nausea and lightheadedness that comes over him as he starts to cry.

Even now, Niall holds a pull over Harry. The possibility of Harry never seeing Niall ever again. He thought the same way Gemma did before. He thought that maybe Niall would come back one day, that he’d realize that he missed Harry too much to stay away, that he made a mistake in leaving, but the possibility of that happening now are dwindling with every moment that passes.

Harry just wants to know one way or the other whether Niall’s alive. If he’s gone…Harry will deal with it. If he’s alive…Harry will deal with it. But not knowing is killing him. 

Harry curls up, leans against the cupboards, and closes his eyes.

 

_Harry sits under the shade of the viaduct. He’s watching Louis and Liam chase after each other with water guns._

_He looks up to see Niall making his way across the field when Louis and Liam turn on him and soak his shirt._

_He laughs and curses them at the same time before they go back to shooting each other._

_Harry watches him continue his interrupted journey into the shade as he uselessly uses his wet shirt to wipe off his face, before he pulls the shirt over his head and lays it out in the sun._

_He stands there looking at Harry for a moment._

_“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Harry asks with a smile._

_Niall comes over and plops himself down on Harry’s lap so that he’s straddling Harry’s legs._

_“Where’ve you been?” Harry says placing his hands on Niall’s waist._

_“Lyla and Jane got into a fight, made a mess of things,” Niall says absentmindedly._

_“How bad could it be? They’re like seven,” Harry laughs._

_Niall shakes his head. “There was glitter everywhere, Mrs. McCabe was out and Mr. McCabe wanted nothing to do with it. Then the girls didn’t want to go to their room because it was the same room.”_

_“What was the fight about?” Harry’s thumb runs alone Niall’s stomach just above his waistband._

_“Jane got mad that Lyla used the last piece of red paper…I swear, livin’ in that house is making me rethink having kids one day.”_

_“Guess will just have to make sure there’s enough red paper,” Harry says with a curt smile before he pulls Niall in for a kiss._

_“Oi, you two!” Louis calls out from across the field. “We didn’t come here to watch the two of you snog all day!”_

_They both turn toward Louis and Liam, and Niall flips them both off, making them laugh and go back to drenching each other._

Harry wakes up and slumps his way into the bathroom to take a shower before he goes to work.

He walks to the bar, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.  He hates walking pass the Chinese restaurant and the alley next to it. The smell of Chinese food makes his stomach lurch. He always walks a little faster, keeping his head down until he makes it to the music store next to the pub and he feels like he can breathe again.

He’s partially happy that when he walks in that Bressie isn’t in the main room of the pub. He folds his jacket and shoves it in one of the empty cubbies under the counter before he starts getting things set up.

It’s Thursday night, so the groups of people that come into the pub are smaller and less rowdy than the weekends.  He’s pouring drinks for a couple down the bar when a glass falls through his fingers and shatters on the floor by his feet.  Harry grips onto the counter as if to brace himself.

The doors to the back open almost immediately after the noise and the moment of silence afterward.

“Harry?”

Harry breathes in and out slowly, focusing on a spot on the counter.

“Harry?” Bressie says again and Harry looks over at him from where Bressie stands by the double doors near the end of the bar.  Bressie watches him, his hands out as he steps closer to Harry, as if he was a caged animal.

“I’m fine…” Harry says quietly. He lets go of the counter and bends down to start cleaning up the glass.

“I can clean that up, if you need a minute,” Bressie says coming up to stand next to Harry.

“It’s fine, Brez. It’s just a broken glass.”  Harry puts the larger pieces into the garbage and sweeps up the rest of it with the brush they keep under the bar.

“Alright,” Bressie says softly. “Just worried me for a second there.”

Harry stands up and sees the concerned look on Bressie’s face, so he just gives a small smile to reassure the Irishman that he’s fine.  

Bressie’s eyes scan Harry’s face and he wonders if Bressie can see the truth that something is wrong but that it has nothing to do with the broken glass.

Harry almost wants him to ask; he wants to tell him everything because Bressie is like a brother to Niall and he deserves to know that something’s wrong, but Harry can’t bring himself to say it. To tell Bressie and make him suffer the same way he is…he just has to wait for Louis or Liam to call back. Beyond that he’ll get a call from his mum, who will be the first to officially find out if he’s gone.

Niall’s friends were his only family. Anne is the closest thing to a mother he has. The idea was that Harry would be there with him if anything happened, so notifying Anne was the logical way to go for both of them when they filled out all the paperwork when they joined up.

Bressie doesn’t seem to believe Harry about being fine though…he’ll go in the back for a few minutes then come back out pretending to get or check on something else entirely.

He doesn’t do these things with any of the other veterans that work there. Though maybe that had something to do with the fact that Harry only been home for about four months and the others have had time to acclimate…not to mention that some of them have also gotten professional help.

 

This goes on for days and Harry’s at his wit’s end. He can’t call anyone. He can’t ask anyone, because he’s not even supposed to know at all.

He goes to work Thursday evening.  He keeps catching the picture of all of them pinned behind the bar and to make matters worse, there’s a group of needy women sitting near the bulletin board with the pictures of the soldiers who are home, overseas, or killed in action. He keeps looking at the picture of Niall in the overseas portion, checking to make sure it’s still there as if it will magically move if Niall’s dead.

“Oi, fairy dust!” a man yells loudly from a corner table, clearly pointed at Harry.

Harry breathes in and takes a moment before he turns around to go over there. The men all snicker and laugh when he stands by their table.

“The lads want to ask you a question,” the man says pointing at one of his friends.

The guy’s in desperate need of a shave and quite possibly a shower, but it’s undetermined which one or few of them the smell is coming from.

“You served, right? That’s your picture on the wall over there,” the guy says gesturing toward the bulletin board.

Harry looks at the man a moment wondering where this is going. “I served, yeah…”

“So, my question is, when one of you fairy-fucks gets hit, does glitter or rainbows come out instead of blood?” 

Harry clenches his fist and turns to go back to the bar and the men start laughing hysterically behind, carrying on with their conversation.

“God! Imagine one of ‘em gettin’ blown the fuck up!” one shouts through his laughter.

“Probably looks like a right show!”

“Hey, the little Irish fuck is still over there! Maybe we’ll get lucky and someone will catch it on camera!”

“There’d probably be fuckin’ Lucky Charms everywhere, feed a whole village for a month!”

Harry stops and turns around, going back to the table.

“Taste the rainbow!”

They all laugh.

Harry grabs one of them and throws him on the floor. Hitting him over and over as the others scramble to get at him. They try to pull Harry back, but they’re drunk and fat enough that he easily gets the drop on two of them before others haul him back as another one punches him in the face.

The guy gets a few good hits in before Harry kicks him, sending him backward. He struggles to get free of the two holding him, but as soon as he does, the one he kicked grabs him from behind and throws him on the floor. He practically sits on Harry as he hits him.

There is something cathartic about it. The hardwood floors of the bar against his back, and the evenly timed hits of a man that’s twice his age and weight.

Harry snaps back in and gains control over the situation.

There’s something powerful about hitting another person. In some ways, he thinks that he’s missed it. He’s missed the pain in his knuckles and the strain in his arms after going for so long.

“Harry!”

He misses Niall. Misses the two of them play fighting or spotting each other during workouts. Niall was always there. Ever since they were nine, Niall was there and now he’s gone.

Someone grabs him from behind and by the strength of the hold, he knows it’s Bressie.  “C’mon, lad,” Bressie says as he drags Harry into the back room.

“Let go of me!” Harry fights against him.

“Not until you calm down.”

Harry closes his eyes. There’s so much anger boiling up in him. He tries to focus on his breathing. Trying to get his heartrate and breathing back to a normal pace.

Bressie finally let’s go of him.

“What they hell is wrong with you?” Bressie says angrily. “Christ, if those guys come in here once a week and start talking shit—You fucking ignore it, Harry! I can’t be dealing with lawsuits or hospital bills!”

“The things they said, Bressie…” Harry says. He’s hunched over slightly still trying to get his bearings.

“Fuck what they said! I don’t give a shit, Harry!”

Harry shakes his head. “What they said about Niall…”

“That doesn’t make what you did right.”

“They were talking about the possibility of him getting killed over there and for all I know, he might’ve been…I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Harry?”

Harry looks at Bressie he can feel the lump in his throat grow and the tears start welling up in his eyes.  “Niall might be dead. I don’t know. Louis called, and he just kept saying that the car exploded and that it was bad, but I don’t know if he’s dead or alive. I don’t fucking know.” Harry’s breaths get shorter and more static. “I don’t know…” The tears start running down his cheeks. “I don’t fucking know.”

Harry looks at Bressie. “I couldn’t tell you…I couldn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t do that to the rest of you. I had to know for sure one way or another, but…I can’t lose him, Bressie. He went back over there because of me and now I might lose him for good. A-And I don’t know how— I don’t know what I’m…” Harry sucks air into his lungs. He can feel the anger and the grief shadowing inside of him. “What am I supposed to do, Brez?” Harry looks at Bressie with pleading eyes. “What the fuck am I supposed to do!” Harry yells.

Harry turns away from Bressie. His hands are shaking, and he can’t keep himself from crying anymore.  It feels like he can’t breathe and everything is running tenfold in his body. “I can’t…can’t lose him…” Harry chokes out.

Bressie puts his arms around Harry from behind and holds him tight.

His legs collapse from underneath him and the only thing holding him up is Bressie.

“It’s alright, Harry,” Bressie says softly and Harry just continues to cry.

Josh comes into the room from the kitchen.

“Call Nick. Get him down here, now,” Bressie says to him and Josh goes out to the bar to use the phone.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” Bressie whispers. “No matter what happens, we’re gonna get through it, alright?”

“I should’ve never let him go,” Harry cries.

“I know, lad…but this isn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve died in that fucking alley,” Harry breathes out.

It only makes Bressie hold him tighter; he doesn’t know what else to do. Harry gets heavier in his arms and Bressie has no choice, so he scoops Harry up and carries him up stairs to the flat.

He carefully sets Harry down on the twin bed. “I’ll be right back.” Bressie goes back downstairs and Harry can hear the yelling through the floor as he curls into himself. He just wants to see Niall. He wants to hear his voice and his laugh. Hear him say that he was wrong to leave him like that. That everything was fine.

Harry falls asleep and he only wakes up when Nick crawls into bed behind him and puts his arm around Harry.

“Niall might be dead,” Harry says quietly.

“I know…” Nick whisper, huddling closer to Harry. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just go back to sleep.”

“I still love him…”

“I know.”

 

Harry’s body is stiff and his face hurts when he wakes up early the next morning. He sits quietly at the kitchen table while Bressie cleans up his face and hands.

“Sorry about the bed,” Harry says looking over Bressie’s shoulder to where Nick is taking the sheets and pillowcases off the bed.

“The blood’ll wash out easy enough,” Bressie says with a shrug.

“I’m sorry about last night too…”

Bressie looks at Harry for a moment before goes back to cleaning up Harry’s knuckles. “They won’t be pressing charges,” Bressie replies. “I convinced them that trying to go to the police would prove more embarrassing after it got out that they got their asses handed to them by a lanky homosexual.”

“Thanks for that,” Harry deadpans.

“Use what they fear most against them,” Bressie says nonchalantly.

“I’d say that I really fucked up this time, but I feel like that’s just been the way of things lately,” Harry says. “Wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about Niall…or I definitely shouldn’t’ve.”

“Sitting quietly with something like that won’t do you any good either.” Bressie dabs at the cut above Harry’s eye trying to clean up the dried blood. “At some point, Louis or Liam have to call back and until then, I say we go with hope.” Bressie looks at Harry. “We just have to hope that he made it and keep it as simple as that. Otherwise, we’ll drive ourselves insane worrying one way or the other.”

“You going to be alright to walk back to yours?” Nick asks. He comes over to the table and steals one of the bananas sitting in the bowl at the center of it.

“You can stay here if you want,” Bressie says as he starts to put the first-aid supplies away.  “I can call Dan or maybe Laura in to cover your shift tonight if—”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’ll be here. This is nothing. I’m fine.”

“Mate, not to start anything here, but last time you said that you had a fractured rib and you could hardly see out of one of your eyes,” Nick says with his mouth full.

Harry gives Nick a look that makes Nick hold his half-eaten banana up in surrender.

“Seriously, I’m fine. Besides Louis might have already called the house.”

“Fair point,” Bressie says looking at Nick.

 

 

Harry takes a shower when he gets back to his house. He leaves the bathroom door open, which is something he never does, not since he’s been living by himself anyway. There were no new messages or missed calls on the answering machine, but if the phone rings, he wants to be able to hear it.

Even after telling Bressie and Nick, he still feels the weight of it on his shoulders.  Now, the other two are going to be looking to him for answers. Reading him, trying to see if any news as come in on Niall’s condition.

Harry can’t help but be a little mad a Louis. He should’ve never called Harry about this. It was a breach of protocol, which is partially there to avoid unnecessary stress like this.  

He can’t help it every time his hand creeps up to hold onto the ring dangling from his neck. If felt heavier than ever, but even if Niall does survive, that doesn’t mean that he’ll change his mind and come home to be with Harry.

Bressie wants to hold onto hope and that’s great for him, but it doesn’t work for Harry. Hope won’t bring Niall home safely and it sure as hell won’t fix any of Harry’s problems.

He doesn’t have hope, but maybe there’s a little bit of faith reserved for the strength in Niall. He’s always been a fighter and a strong person, with a great sense of who he is, though that last one might not be true anymore. Harry’s not sure of how much has changed in Niall since he left and went back.

 

Hours seem like days when you’re waiting for something to happen. So, the fact that it’s days later that the house phone finally rings feels like the end of an eternity of waiting.

Harry’s sitting at the counter going through the mail, putting aside the bills he needs to pay. It doesn’t help that he has to do all this one his own income instead of his and Niall’s. He makes decent money at the pub when the tips are good, but it’s still a bit of a struggle since the army doesn’t pay that well either.

He’s staring that the electric bill, when the phone rings. It feels like his heart stops at the sound of it and he can’t help but sit there for a moment staring at the phone, watching it ring before he gets up to answer it.

He puts the phone to his ear and doesn’t say anything right away.

“Hello?” he breathes out almost hoping that no one’s there on the other line.

“Hazza…” Louis’ voice comes through.

Harry has to sit down on the couch. He almost wants to hang up, as if not knowing would be better. 

“Been trying to get to a phone since we found out,” Louis says. Silence follows and Harry’s heart races. “Nialler’s alive, Hazza,” Louis says like a weight is lifted off his shoulders. “It was touch and go for a while, and they said that he’s not out of the woods just yet. He still needs a few more surgeries, but they’ll hopeful. Said he has to be strong as hell to make it this far. But they’re hoping that once he’s stable enough, they can transport him to a hospital in Germany.”

Harry feels like he can finally breathe again.

“Harry?” Louis says softly. “You still there?”

Harry rubs his face. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I just…”

“I know,” Louis says.  “It’s all a bit much. They’ve been movin’ us around and it was impossible to get any information until we got situated somewhere for more than a few hours.”

“It’s alright,” Harry says quietly. “I know it’s not your fault.”

“Christ, Harry…” Louis sighs. “I thought we were gonna lose him. I really did. I don’t know what I would’ve done if we had…”

Harry nods, though he knows Louis can’t see him. Harry spent a week thinking that Niall was dead. He figured if he expected the worst, he wouldn’t be crushed by the news if it turned out that he didn’t make it. “How’s Liam?” Harry says changing the subject.

“A lot better now,” Louis admits. “Tired, but better.”

“Good.” Harry lets a smile slip over his lips. “I miss you lads.”

“Miss you too, Hazza.”

“Give Liam a hug from me, yeah?”

“As long as I get one for meself too.”

“Absolutely,” Harry grins. “Take care of yourself Lou.”

“Same to you, Harold,” Louis chimes.

Harry hangs up first this time.  If he stayed on any longer, he probably would’ve started crying. He misses Louis and Liam like crazy. As bad as what he had to go through was, it doesn’t compare to what Liam and Louis went through. All Louis said was that it was bad. Harry’s not sure what that means or if he wants to know what that means. But he tries to focus on the fact that Niall’s alive.

Harry gets up and grabs his coat. He’s out the door without a second thought.

He makes it to the pub and Dan looks a bit confused when Harry walks in.

“Is Bressie here?” Harry asks.

“Back office,” Dan says.

Harry comes into the back room and back to Bressie’s office. He knocks on the doorframe and Bressie looks up, and his face goes white for a second when he sees Harry standing unexpectantly in front of him.

A touch of a smile pulls at Harry’s lips. “He’s alive, Brez,” he says.

Bressie breathes out heavily. “Jaysus Christ. Thank god,” Bressie says. He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“Louis said he still has more surgeries, but if all goes well, they want to transfer him to a hospital in Germany.”

“Fucking hell,” Bressie mutters. “I couldn’t go on like that for much longer.”

“Thought you were going on with hope?” Harry says sitting down on the couch in Bressie’s office.

Bressie chuckles and shakes his head. “Just said that for your benefit, didn’t I…didn’t believe a word of but I figured if I got you te believe it that I could follow suit.”

Harry looks at Bressie for a moment. “I didn’t believe it for a moment.”

Bressie can’t help but laugh and Harry’s not far behind.  They both feel like they dodged a bullet. Like they went to the edge and back and it was all becoming a distant memory.

 

 

Three weeks later, there’s a message on the answering machine when Harry gets home from work. He sits before he presses play, like he knows better now.

“H, don’t have a lot of time here, mate, but Niall was transferred to Germany. Look, some shite’s going on over here, they’re pulling us back. Not sure what’s going on, but I don’t think we’re sticking around to find out. Major Keaton is trying to pull some strings and get Niall back to England.  Don’t know when that’s going to happen, and I’ll try to call again if we get more info about it, so just a heads up. Love you, mate.”

The message ends and Harry feels more worried than before. They’re trying to get Niall back to England, but Harry’s not sure that’s something that Niall even wants.

Harry’s heart plummets at the thought of seeing Niall again. The idea of Niall being so far away made it all not seem so real, but soon he’ll be no more than a couple hours away from Harry. 

He almost wants to tell Bressie. Let someone Niall actually would want to see deal with all of this, but he can’t put that all on Brez.

Niall’s going to be okay, and Harry wants this to be the moment he feels like he can finally let go of him. He never got a proper goodbye with Niall leaving the way he did, but maybe this was it. He sat here waiting to see if Niall would come home or spend the rest of his life in the military or come back just to leave Harry for good.

Harry didn’t do Niall any good being around before and maybe that would be even worse now.

He looks up at the white walls around them, thinking of all the promises they made to each other, when they thought Harry might die. They were going to paint the house and make it home and now it just seems like purgatory. A place where people get stuck.

Harry doesn’t want to be stuck there anymore.

 


	3. Where Do We Go From Here?

“They’re trying to get him transported back to England…” Harry says offhand to Bressie when they are behind the bar cleaning up. It’s been two weeks since he heard Louis’ message on the answering machine. He hasn’t had the heart to tell anyone because he didn’t want to hear the question that follows.

“So, what are you gonna to do?” Bressie says. He keeps counting the cash in the register.

“I don’t know,” Harry admits. “A piece of me wants to see him…to talk to him, but the other part of me wants to just let him go like he wanted to begin with.”

“I can understand that, kinda feel the same way,” Bressie says. “Like I hate that he just took off like that but I also know that he’s gotta be going through hell right now.”

“I didn’t want to see my family or friends when all that happened.”

“And other people cling to friends and family in those times.”

“Yep,” Harry says blankly.

“How ‘bout this…” Bressie says turning to face Harry. “When he gets situated back in England, we’ll send Nick over, and if the little one tries to kill him then we’ll know which way he’s leaning, yeah?”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head. “A good plan, but I don’t think Nick will go for it.”

Bressie puts his hands up in surrender before he does back to counting the cash in the register. “Just trying to help.”

Harry wipes down the counter and zones out for a moment. He looks across the street out the front window and sees the guy closing up the laundromat.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” Harry asks out of nowhere, looking at Bressie.

Bressie leans against the counter and thinks about it for a moment. “Yeah, I guess. I was going to move south somewhere and open the pub down there, but this spot opened up and I guess I felt a responsibility to stay here. You lads were still in school and I was just getting out of the army. Now, I know that a lot of people depend on their jobs here and I can’t even think about moving somewhere else.” Bressie studies Harry’s face for a moment. “You thinkin’ about leaving?”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe? I don’t know. I like this job for the most part, I’d miss you and Nick and I know Louis and Liam are coming back at some point and I want to be here for them, but I don’t think people like me should stay here. Being gay wasn’t an issue before because we were hardly ever home, but now, after being home for so long…I think that what I’ve experienced already is only going to get worse down the line.”

“I wouldn’t be mad if you left, Harry,” Bressie says in a low tone. “I’d be sad, but I’d understand. Just give me a little warning if you do decide to leave, yeah? Don’t want you disappearing on me too.”

Harry nods. He doesn’t think he could do that after everything Bressie has done for him.  He knows he has a tendency to not contact anyone for a few days, but the thought of leaving without a proper goodbye makes his skin crawl. He’s been on the receiving end of that and he never wants to put someone else through that kind of pain.

If he told Nick he was leaving, Nick would probably go with him. And maybe that thought scares Harry even more than saying goodbye to Bressie. He hasn’t been the best friend to Nick since he got back and yet Nick would still do anything for him.

Harry realizes in that moment that he might be just fine without Niall.

 

 

“He’ll be transferred to St. Leo’s hospital tomorrow,” Louis says over the phone. He sounds more upbeat than usual and Harry can hear Liam say something in the background. “I’m getting to that,” Louis says off to the side, Harry’s guessing to Liam. “So, I’m not going to burry the good news, but we’re packing up here! Leaving this fucking place for good, I think.”

Harry believes it. There have been news reports, and more everyday about the possibility of British forces pulling out of Afghanistan altogether.  Harry hoped that it was true, and that Louis and Liam could come home and help with the Niall situation.

“It may be another week or two,” Louis goes on to say. “And Harry, you know I wouldn’t ask you to do this if the situation didn’t absolutely call for it, but I—we need you to go be with Niall. He’s not doing well, and I was hoping that by at least one of us being there for him, that it would help things along.”

“What do you mean, he’s not doing well? I thought he had to be stable for them to transfer him?” Harry asks.

“Physically, he’s healing, he’s stable, but we got in contact with the hospital in Germany and they said that he’s just…he’s not in a good place mentally.”

“I don’t know if he wants to see me…”

“Harry…” Louis says with a sigh. “I know every concern that’s rushing through your head right now, but—”

“I’ll go see him,” Harry cuts him off. “I just don’t want to make things worse for him, but I know what you’re saying. I think I’d want to see you guys if I was in his position.” Maybe that’s a lie…it’s definitely a lie, but Harry can’t refuse a request like that from Louis. He’ll go and pass it off as Louis and Liam’s concern if Niall doesn’t want to see him.

“We’ll be home soon, Harry,” Louis says, like he knows Harry is still doubting how much he can handle the situation by himself.

 

Harry’s still doubting himself two days later when he’s in a cab on the way to St. Leo’s hospital, which is about an hour and a half from his house, so he has a lot of time to over think the whole situation before he even steps foot on the curb outside the hospital.

He’s always hated hospitals. It was bad enough, being in one yourself, but having to see someone in the hospital was even worse. He didn’t know what to expect. The most information he got from Louis was that Niall’s wounds were bad, which could mean a hundred different things.

He regrets not bringing Bressie along the moment he steps up to the reception desk. Bressie is good at this sort of thing. He was moving Irish version of the ‘hang in there’ kitty poster. Plus, Niall listens to Bressie. But alas, Harry is an idiot.

The woman behind the desk has her hair in a tight bun at the base of her head. She seemed too young for the oversized sweater hanging from her shoulders.

“I’m looking for Niall Horan,” Harry says hesitantly. “He’s a patient here…”

She looks up at him with wide blue eyes. “Are you family?”

Harry shifts on his feet.  “Um, he doesn’t really have any family.” He looks at the woman and she doesn’t seem convinced. “Look, I’ve known him since we were nine, we served together…I’m about as close to family as he has at this point. Please, I just want to see him and tell him that our friends are coming home soon.”

She examines Harry for a moment then grabs a clipboard and shoves it in front of Harry. “Sign-in here and put this on,” she says handing a visitor’s pass to him.

A male nurse walks pass the desk and the women gestures for him to come over. “Nurse Taylor will take you up.”

“Where am I going?” the nurse asks.

“He’s here to see Mr. Horan.”

Nurse Taylor sighs and shakes his head. “Alright, let’s go.”

Harry follows him to the elevator. He stands there quietly as the nurse presses the button for the third floor.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry says quietly.

“Sure?” Nurse Taylor replies, but sounds anything but sure.

“The way you reacted when she said I was here to see Niall…” Harry pauses and tries to think of what exactly he wants to ask. “How bad is he?”

Nurse Taylor sighs again. “I’ve seen patients who have resisted every form of help or comfort, but…the kid’s been through hell. Hopefully being back in the UK and seeing his friends will help.”

The elevator doors open, and Nurse Taylor leads Harry to an open wing, he sees other patients lying in beds against the wall. A man with burns going up the side of his face, another without an arm, a woman with bandages over her eyes.

Taylor pauses in the doorway and points to a curtained bed three-quarters the way down the room.  “Basic rules for this area is no loud noises and no sudden movements, yeah?”

Harry nods. Staring at the curtain hiding the side of the bed as Nurse Taylor steps back into the hallway and continues on around the corner.

There are other nurses and doctors in the area, but Harry’s eyes are fixed on the curtain. The light coming in from the windows is bright, maybe almost too bright given the entire room was white.

Harry feels out of place in his black jeans and t-shirt. His coat is secondhand, fraying at the sleeves…he feels like he’s contaminating everything just by being there.

He walks forward slowly toward the bed. His pulse races and his body feels like it’s going to shake itself into a puddle.

Harry takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes trained on the floor just before he reaches the bed. He looks up and feels his heart sink at the sight of Niall.

Nothing anyone could have said would’ve prepared him for this.

Niall’s lying in bed sleeping, there are traces of scars running down the left side of his face, neck, and arm and that’s when Harry realizes that Niall’s left leg is missing from the knee down.

He doesn’t even look like Niall. Any bit of blond hair is gone, his skin is badly scarred, and he just looks so pale.

Harry sits down in the chair next to the bed, he doesn’t think he could stand for another moment.  He watches the heart monitor, and he’s thankful that it doesn’t make that awful beeping sound. He doesn’t know if he could handle that.

Harry reaches out and tentatively holds Niall’s hand. 

“’m so sorry, Niall,” Harry whispers. Tears sting his eyes. “’m so fucking sorry.”

Niall moves slightly, and Harry looks up just as Niall opens his eyes.

It’s a softer, duller blue than Harry remembers.

Niall blinks staring up at the ceiling and his hand clenches slightly around Harry’s.

He sits there watching, until Niall’s gaze lands on Harry in the chair next to his bed.

Harry watches as Niall’s eyes go from soft to angry. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Niall chokes out in a harsh tone.

“Niall, I—”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Niall says snatching his hand out of Harry’s grip. He tries to sit up. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Niall, I just—”

“I said get the hell out!” Niall shouts at him.

Harry stands up as a nurse and doctor come rushing over. “I’m sorry…”

“Get the hell out!” Niall screams. “You did this to me! Get the hell out!” Niall jerks up in the bed and the nurse tries to hold him down as the doctor fills a syringe. “Get the fuck!” The doctor pushes the needle into the IV. “Get the hell out…” Niall says again before his eyes close and he goes limp on the bed.

Harry backs away. He can’t breathe, and he practically runs back to the elevator, out through the lobby, and back outside to the sidewalk. Niall’s screams echo in his mind. Over and over for Harry to get out. _You did this to me…_

Harry stares out toward the road before he goes over and leans against the side of the building before he slides down the wall. His legs shake so much he couldn’t stand if he wanted it.

He buries his head in his arms and cries.  He tried so hard to imagine what the worst that could happen could be, but he couldn’t imagine that.  There was so much rage and anger in Niall’s eyes when he saw Harry.

Everything feels gone. Like the moment Niall opened his eyes, he removed what little Harry had left in him. It all disappeared. The only thing that’s left are the voices.

_I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before._

_No wonder Niall left you._

_You should’ve just stayed over there and gotten yourself blown up with the rest of those fags._

_Get the hell out._

_You ever touch me again and I’ll blow your fucking head off._

_You did this to me._

It all rings and echoes in his head. Morphing in and out with faces and hands and the pain that comes with all of it as it washes over him like the ocean tide.

A cab pulls up and lets someone out. Harry pulls himself to his feet, wiping his eyes as he goes up to the cab and tells the cabbie the address for the nearest liquor store.

 

+++

 

Liam knocks on the door one more time.  They’re still in their uniforms and haven’t even gone home yet since they got back that morning.

“Maybe he went out,” Louis says. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the house phone. They both stand there listening to the phone ring out inside the house and no other noises.  “Grimmy sounded pretty sure he’d be home.” Louis ends the call and calls Nick instead. He puts the phone to his ear. “Haven’t seen the lad in how long and he can’t even bother to pick up his phone?” Louis says just as Nick picks up on the other end. “He’s not here.”

Nick sighs on the other end of the line.

“Did you bring your key?” Liam asks looking at Louis who shakes his head.

“Just wait there, yeah?” Nick says. “I’ll be right over.”

Nick hangs up and Louis shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Guess we’re waiting for Grimmy to get his arse over here.” Louis goes over and sits on the porch steps and Liam joins him a moment later.  “If I end up freezing me balls off waiting out here, I’m going to punch both of them.”

“Not like we told him we were coming over,” Liam counters.

“Yeah, but I told him when we were getting home, and we’ve called his mobile and his house.”

Nick comes strolling up the sidewalk about fifteen minutes later, hands shoved in his coat pockets.

“Good to see you lads,” Nick says hugging each of them.  He goes to pull his key out.

“If he’s not home, what good is it using the key to get in?” Liam asks.

Nick puts the key in the lock and glances back at them. “Trust me, he’s home. You might want to wait out here.” Nick opens the door.

“It’s fuckin’ freezin’ out here. To hell with that!” Louis objects.

“Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Nick says. He steps inside, and Louis and Liam follow him.

“Christ, what the hell happened in here?” Liam says looking around the living room, which is full of empty bottles of beer and liquor, not to mention the mess of mail and broken glass on the floor.

“Just wait out here, alright?” Nick says. He goes up to the bedroom door and gives a light knock. “Harold, your best friends are here and I’m coming in,” Nick announces before he enters the room.

Harry’s lying on his stomach, passed out on the bed. There are more empty bottles on the nightstands and the floor.  

Nick goes over, kneeling next to the bed. “Harry?” he says shaking Harry’s shoulder. “C’mon, mate. Louis and Liam are here, they shouldn’t have to see you like this.” He shakes him again and Harry groans. “C’mon Harry…”

“Jesus Christ…”

Nick looks up and sees Louis and Liam standing in the doorway of the room.

“Thought I told you to wait out there,” Nick says.

“You really expected him to listen?” Liam says. 

Louis come over and stands behind Nick.

“Help me get him in the shower?” Nick asks looking up at the two of them.

Liam nods and grabs Harry’s arm and starts pulling him up, but Harry hunches over and Nick’s quick enough with the garbage bin for Harry to puke into it instead of on them.

Harry groans again and they lift him off the bed and drag him into the bathroom. Nick takes off his shirt and they get him into the bathtub, where Nick doesn’t even bother letting the water run, so it’s freezing when it hits Harry.

Harry jolts up and tries to get out, but they hold him there under the water.

They manage to scrub him down a little bit and dry him enough to put him in the extra bedroom while they clean up the house.

“I don’t get it,” Liam says when they sit down in the living room. “He was fine a couple weeks ago, he even sent a letter not long before all that. What changed?”

Nick sighs and rubs his face. “We should’ve saved some of the alcohol for this conversation.”

“Yeah, speaking of,” Louis cuts in. “The drinking thing? That was never Harry’s go to…rest of us drank way more than he ever did.”

Louis and Liam stare at Nick, who sighs. He really didn’t want to be the one to have to tell them all of this. He hoped that Harry would be in a better place by the time they came back home, but he’s seemed to have done a one-eighty instead.

“The drinking started after Niall left him…spent about three weeks in a drunken stupor,” Nick reveals. “He had maybe a couple more nights here and there, but nothing too bad, he seemed to have wanted to stay sober, but he picked it back up about two weeks ago.”

“Around the time that Niall was transferred back to England?” Liam asks.

“There about. All I know is that he went to see Niall, he texted saying that Niall was asleep the entire time he was there, I didn’t think much of it and I went to go visit my mum for a few days. I came back when Bressie called.” Nick rubs his face and sighs. “Apparently, Harry showed up at work drunk and Bressie had to bring him home, where Harry then got very mad and thus the broken picture frames and glass all over the floor from young Harold whipping an empty bottle of whiskey at Bressie’s head.  Bressie told him not to come back for work until he sorted himself out and sobered up.”

“Jesus Christ…” Liam mutters and Louis stays quiet next to him.  “So, we don’t know what caused this?”

“Well…” Nick leans back in his chair. “Nothing could be sussed out from the yelling, but one night he mumbled, ‘It’s all my fault, I did this to him,’ and ‘I should’ve died’ when I tried to put him to bed.”

“You have any idea what he was talking about?” Liam asks.

“My guess is that it has something to do with Niall…”

“You think Niall said something to him?” Louis asks. “That he lied about Niall being asleep while he was there?”

Nick shrugs.

“Had to be bad enough that he’d say he should’ve died,” Liam remarks.

“What? Like when he got hit in the shoulder?” Louis asks.

“That seemed to be his trigger…at least at first it was.”

“What do you mean at first?” Liam questions and he and Louis both look at Nick.

“Harry, had an episode at work.  It wasn’t anything bad.  He didn’t get violent, but he had another small one while he was in the hospital and—”

“Wait, Harry was in the hospital? For what?” Liam stops him.

“Not really my place to say,” Nick says quietly. “Mostly because I don’t really know what happened, but I got a call from the house phone, which he never calls from.” Nick gestures to the phone sitting on the end table by the couch. “The message was silent, but it worried me enough to come here at about three a.m. or something. And I found him beaten and bloody on the floor by the sofa. Thought he was dead.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Louis groans. “Why wouldn’t he tell us? He sent that bloody letter! He couldn’t bother to send another one, or tell us during any of the times we called?”

“Pretty sure he actually sent that letter not too long after it happened,” Nick says. “He wrote one before, but I found that one ripped up in the trash. I just think that he didn’t want to worry you lot. He probably didn’t want you knowing at all, so he’s probably going to be pretty pissed off that I told you any of this. He’s been keeping things quiet, and not even just from you, I’ve been getting nothing but lies, vague answers, and silence from him since all this started. Niall leaving the way he did really did a number on him. Then not having you two here either…” Nick looks down, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t really know how to deal with it all, so I doubt I made it much better.”

“’s not your fault,” Louis says softly. “Both of them are impossible to deal with when they don’t think anyone can help them. Niall spent half the time over there looking like he wanted to kill someone and the other half like he wanted to off himself.”

“Sounds familiar,” Nick mumbles.  

They sit there in the silence of the house. The recycling is once again filled with empty bottles of booze and the living room as well as Harry’s bedroom has once again been cleaned. A piece of it felt good that, for the most part, the only destruction Harry caused was in his own home and to himself.  Neither Nick or Bressie got hurt trying to help him, and that seemed like a win, because even though Harry didn’t look like a threat, he could easily hold his own if he needed to. He’d been working out in the mornings prior to his most recent bender.

Nick convinced Louis and Liam to go home and get some sleep. Told them to see their families and see Bressie and maybe come back in a couple days for whatever is left of Harry.

The look in their eyes hurts the most.  Nick feels responsible for Harry, mostly because he didn’t keep a close enough eye on him before to be able to prevent this from happening. 

 

Harry sleeps for the entirety of the next day. Nick goes to work in the morning to do the radio show and comes back to the house straight after, not feeling like he can leave Harry alone for a long period of time. 

Bressie calls Nick during the day, telling him that he put the fear of god into the hearts of the cashiers at the liquor stores near town if they gave business to Harry, figuring that if Harry won’t stop, at least Bressie can make it harder for Harry to get alcohol in the first place.

Bressie’s been pissed off about the whole situation and it seems like he blames Nick for some of it. Which is fair. Nick thought Harry would figure things out for himself, even when it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, Nick pushed it all aside and hoped that he wouldn’t have to deal with the mess that is or was his best mate.

Nick comes back to Harry’s after work the next morning. Harry’s shuffling out of the back room. Dazed and looking horrible.

“Liam and Louis are coming over here,” Nick says taking off his jacket and throwing it over the back of the couch.

“Fucking Christ,” Harry mumbles, rubbing his eyes as he saunters into the kitchen.  “I was hoping that seeing them was just some weird dream.”

“Afraid not,” Nick says. “Your two best friends came home after being in the thick of it to have to help me drag your ass into the shower and then to bed. Not to mention that you almost puked on all of us twice.”

Harry leans against the counter and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know what these last couple weeks have been about, Harry,” Nick says with a stern tone. “But you’ve got to talk to someone about what’s going on with you, because if you start doing this again…I can’t. I won’t sit here and try to get you to come back. I won’t come here to help you even after you throw things at me and scream at me. Louis and Liam won’t stand for it either. I know depression makes you feel nothing, trust me, I know, but if you keep this up you will have nothing.”

“I know…”

Nick goes to say something else, but there’s a knock at the door. Nick watches Harry for a moment. “It’s open!” he calls out.

Louis comes in first, followed by Liam. They look at Nick, but take their time taking their coats off, practically refusing to look at Harry.

“You lads get some sleep?” Nick asks, putting on a light tone.

“Not really,” Liam says.

They all stand there in an awkward silence where none of them know what to do or say for the given situation.

Louis finally looks at Harry. He’s tentative, both of them are on the verge of tears and soon enough, Harry’s closing the space between them wrapping his arms around Louis.

“’m so sorry,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ neck. 

“I know, mate,” Louis says, a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

“I missed you lads,” Harry says, and he lets go of Louis and gives Liam a hug. “You shouldn’t’ve had to see me like that.”

Harry pulls back but Liam clasps Harry face gently between his hands. “We were worried about you…no more lying, yeah?”

Harry nods and Liam gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before he ruffles Harry’s hair.

“Hair’s gettin’ long again,” Liam say with a laugh.

Harry bats Liam’s hand away. “Army doesn’t cut it for free anymore.”

They settle into the living room and talk about everything except what they really need to talk about.

“Have you gone to see him?” Louis asks. The room goes quiet and Liam looks from Louis to Harry. Even Nick glances at Harry before his gaze goes back down to the floor.

Harry nods vaguely. “I saw him, but he didn’t want to see me…”

“What the hell happened, Harry?” Louis asks with a knowing look.

Harry shakes his head. “He just didn’t want me there is all. The nurses said that he hasn’t been having a good go of things and that he’s in a rough place. I don’t blame him, I mean, I didn’t want to see my family when shit hit the fan.”

“That all sounds way too understanding for a guy who’s spent the last, what? Two weeks? Drunk off his ass…” Louis replies.

Harry sighs and slouches down in his chair. “I didn’t know what to expect going there to see him, but he just started yelling and screaming at me. They had to sedate him, and I just got out of there…I couldn’t see him like that.  Maybe you lads have a better chance of getting through to him, I don’t know.”

“What makes you think he won’t react the same way when he sees us?” Liam asks. There’s a bit of worry in Liam’s eyes like he hopes like hell that Niall won’t yell at them.  He doesn’t look like he can bear it.

“He wrote me a letter when he left, basically said that he was never coming back and that he didn’t want to stay here with me. Now, he’s been blown up, he’s broken and scared and when he saw me, all he could think was that he was going to get stuck here anyway.  Niall hates me because I’m everything he was trying to get away from in the first place.  And maybe I can’t blame him for that.”

 

“The hospital called today,” Harry says to Bressie when he gets into work.

He’d gone down to the pub after Liam, Louis, and Nick left to talk to Bressie and to apologize. Bressie is the one person he didn’t want to hurt and yet he seems to have hurt him the worst. Physically, Bressie was fine. He was fortunate enough to duck out of the way from the bottle Harry through at him, but the look on Bressie’s face when Harry walked into the bar that afternoon, made it clear that if Harry ever pulled something like that, he’d be out of a job and a close friend. Bressie gives a lot of room for error. They’re all just trying to figure things out after all, but Harry’s behavior had nothing to do with his time in Afghanistan and had everything to do with Harry not dealing with shit properly.

“Guess they were talking with my mum initially, but she gave them my number…making her the emergency contact was just because me and Niall were usually over there together.” Harry leans against the counter behind the bar. “I didn’t tell her about the note that he left or what happened when I went to see him.”

“’s probably for the best,” Bressie says. 

“They want me to go there and help with his physical theropy…said that it’s good to have a friend or someone around to help with the healing process, but—”

“But Niall doesn’t want to see you,” Bressie finishes Harry’s sentence.

“He fucking hates me…if I go there to help, he’s not going to make any progress.” Harry looks down at the floor. “He always listened to you,” Harry says in a soft tone and he looks up at Bressie. “I know that you are so busy, but I can’t go there, and Louis and Liam haven’t had any luck with him either. He just refuses to see them altogether. I want him to get better and I don’t want him to get stuck here either—he’s just so angry. I—”

“I’ll do it,” Bressie cuts in. “I’m not going to make you do this just because he’s your…whatever he is now. You shouldn’t have to deal with that. I’ll do it, but it just means that you’re going to have to help out more around here. You can enlist Liam’s help and call in Dan if you need to, just no Louis behind the bar, yeah? Last time he stole all the tiny umbrellas and stuck them in random places around the pub.”

“You’re sure?” Harry asks.

“I don’t know how much I can do for him mentally. He can give me the silent treatment if he wants to, but at least getting him up and about will give him some freedom and maybe his mind will catch up.”

 

 

“What’re you doing?” Liam asks walking up the sidewalk outside of Harry’s house.

Harry’s almost lost the feeling in his fingers, but he’s determined to get this finished.

“Building a wheelchair ramp…” Harry says.  “Got the specifications online and even had Bressie check the specifications with the hospital.”

“Mate, you do realize that it’s freezing out here and the odds of Niall coming back here are slim to none. Even with Bressie going to his physical therapy, he’s still not talking to any of us.”

“I know,” Harry says.

“Then why are you doing it?”

Harry drops his tools and stands up to look at Liam. “He’s going to need somewhere to go when they release him. Bressie and you and Louis live on upper levels and neither of you have elevators.”

“But what about you?” Liam asks, though he’s unsure of whether or not he wants to know the answer.

“It’s Niall’s house too,” Harry says.  He looks at Liam, really looks at him, trying to figure out how he wants to say what he’s thinking. “He can have it…even if it’s just for a little while before he finds something else.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Liam remarks.

“He hates me, Liam,” Harry says softly. “He won’t want to see me, and I don’t want to make things worse for him.”

“You’re leaving…”

Harry sighs. “I’m moving on…I’m letting him go.”

“And what about the rest of us?”

Harry shakes his head. “I can’t stay here, Liam. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ve put in a couple job applications closer to London, so I’m just waiting to hear back from them. I’ll finish this ramp, I’ve already lowered the beds and I put a railing in the shower. This is the only way I can help him. This is all I can do for him to give him even a fraction of his life back. He went back because of me and this is how I repay him.”

“You didn’t make him go back, Harry…what happened to Niall isn’t anyone’s fault.” Liam wraps his arms around himself trying to fight off the cold wind.

“It feels like it’s my fault,” Harry says turning away from Liam trying to busy himself with the ramp again.

“I was there, Harry. Me and Lou saw it happen…I don’t know why he’s so angry or what he thinks you did but as far as I’m concerned, you saved his life.”

Harry’s hands pause, and he looks up at Liam. “How do you figure that?”

“When it happened…” Liam starts. “When it happened, Niall wasn’t knocked unconscious. He was awake and in pain and he just kept saying your name and that he loved you.  He thought he was going to die and all he could think about was you.  That’s gotta mean something.”

“I don’t think it means anything to him anymore,” Harry says, and he throws the tools back in the tool bag and stands up. “Niall doesn’t give a shit about me anymore, Liam.  I’ve made peace with that and maybe you should too.”

 

“I don’t get why they want all of us there…I mean, what kind of weird hospital is this?” Louis says in the back seat. “Feel like we’ve been sent to the headmaster’s office or something.”

“He still not talking to you?” Liam asks looking at Bressie.

Bressie glances at Harry in the passenger’s seat and then in the rearview mirror at Liam. “Hardly a word, and when he does talk, it’s usually in the realm of ‘fuck off’, so I’ve stopped trying.”

“Sounds inviting.” Louis leans his head against the window.

Bressie glances at Harry, who’s been quiet for the entire ride to the hospital. “You good?” Bressie asks quietly, giving Harry’s thigh a light pat.

Harry sits up a little and nods. “’m fine.”

When they get to the hospital, they are brought to Dr. Leahy’s office.  Liam and Bressie sit in the two chairs in front of the desk while Harry and Louis lean against the wall.

“It’s good to meet the rest of you,” Dr. Leahy says in reference to Louis, Liam, and Harry.  “Based on Mr. Horan’s physical abilities, he’s ready to be released. Which is good news. And—”

“Why does that involve all of us having to be here?” Louis asks with a harsh tone.

“Well, as I said, Mr. Horan’s is physically ready, but as Mr. Breslin can attest to from the physical therapy sessions, Niall is having some difficulty acclimating to his new condition.”

“Well, that’s what tends to happen when you get blown up,” Louis mumbles to himself.

“My point is that the hospital is aware that Mr. Horan doesn’t have any family, now normally, we would insist that a patient like Niall be living with a family member until such time as he can live on his own. The reason that I asked Mr. Breslin to have Niall’s close friends come to this meeting is because before we release him, we need to know that he is going home and will get the proper attention he needs. Not only because of his mental health but because Mr. Horan’s condition calls for certain measures, mainly mobility issues that arise.”

“So, pretty much what you’re asking is whether or not we’ll care about him enough to take care of him properly instead of leaving him in a heap on the floor or something?” Louis asks as he crosses his arms over his chest.  “What? Since Payno, Bressie and I don’t have elevator access or whatever that we’re unfit to call him our friend?”

“Is there somewhere he can live?” Dr. Leahy asks outright, looking between the four of him.

“I could get a place outside of town or something…” Bressie offers. He knows he doesn’t want to push Niall at Harry. Bressie knows Harry wants to leave and that won’t happen if Niall goes back to that house.

“He can come back home,” Harry says. The other three turn to look at him. “I put a ramp in, bar in the shower. It’s accessible for him.  I just—”

“Harry, you don’t have to do this,” Bressie says and Dr. Leahy looks confused. “I can stay with him at the house and you can take the flat above the pub. Or—”

“It’s fine, Bressie, really.” Harry looks straight at Dr. Leahy. “Niall’s going to stay with me.”

“What about the jobs you applied for?” Liam asks quietly.

Harry shrugs. “Didn’t get them.” Harry glances between all the boys. “It’s fine. Really, I promise. It’s what makes the most sense. The house is set up for him and he knows where everything is. If he has an issue with me being there, I’ll go stay with Nick or something.”

“That hardly makes any sense, mate,” Louis says.

Harry looks over at Louis who’s standing next to him. “It’s his house too. His music stuff is there, his photos, his computer. If what the doctor’s really worried about is his mental health, then I doubt anything will get fixed if he gets stuck living somewhere else. He blames me and maybe he’s right to, I don’t know. I can stay with him until I figure something else out, he doesn’t need to talk to me. It’ll be fine.”

 

They can hear Niall yelling from down the hall as they sit in the waiting area.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Bressie says quietly, leaning toward Harry, who’s sitting next to him.

Louis won’t stop pacing like he thinks that the more he moves the quicker he’ll have an epiphany on what they should do.

“Look at it this way, maybe he’ll get better just so he can get away from me,” Harry says with a halfhearted laugh.

“That’s not funny, Harry,” Bressie mumbles.

“It’s kind of funny. I mean, if he spends all his energy hating me, he won’t have the energy to hate you lads too.”

“Stop punishing yourself for what happened to him,” Bressie says in a more serious tone.

“We’re all punishing ourselves for what happened to him and if you think otherwise, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Dr. Leahy comes out to the waiting room and looks to Harry and Bressie, and Louis finally stops pacing.

“We had to sedate him again, but we’ll be sure to have everything in order tomorrow for his departure,” Dr. Leahy says.

“You had to sedate him, but you still want to send him home?” Liam looks at the doctor curiously.

“He was unhappy with the situation and—”

“No offence, Doc,” Bressie says as he stands up. “But is it possible that Niall should be sent to another facility, like one that can deal with the mental side of things?”

“Mr. Horan does not need to be institutionalized, we recommend that he sees a counselor in the meantime, but we think what he really needs is to get back out in the world.”

“He tried that before he got his leg blown off and it didn’t go so well,” Harry cuts in. “Hence why he was over there to get his leg blown off in the first place. He didn’t want to be back in the world.”

“Your friend needs his friends,” Dr. Leahy says.  “That’s all I’m asking from you boys.”

Harry stands and steps right in front of the doctor. “Before all this happened he was my fiancé, so don’t look at us like we didn’t care about him or that we don’t now. We’re the only people in this world that care about him.”

“I understand that and I’m hoping that that’s enough.”

“Wait,” Louis cuts in. “Go back a moment…you had to sedate him but he’s alright to go home with us tomorrow? How does that make sense? Or are you really secretly trying to get us all killed, because we could hear the yelling from out here, and if Niall still has an ounce of who he used to be in there, he can hold his own in a fight.”

“Anger isn’t a reason to institutionalize someone, Mr. Tomlinson,” Dr. Leahy says calmly. “He’s relatively calm, but as I’ve said to Mr. Breslin, it’s best to avoid stressors.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Louis sneers.

“It’s a complicated situation,” the doctor says.

Harry rolls his eyes. He agrees with Louis in a sense. It does seem like the hospital is pushing to get Niall out of there for their own sakes. He’d only been there a day or so before it was well known how much of a handful he was going to be.

Dr. Leahy leaves and the receptionist gives Harry the info for Niall’s discharge for the next day.

“This place is shite,” Bressie says when they get back to the car. “I’ll call around and see if I can find a better place somewhere closer to home, so the lad can get his physical therapy and check-ups done somewhere else.”

“Do we really need to worry about Niall hurting us?” Liam asks. “I don’t like the idea of leaving him alone with Harry if the doctors here have been sedating him this whole time when he gets out of control.”

“I’ll be fine,” Harry says. He hopes that he can say it enough that they’ll start to believe him. “I bought a lock for the bedroom door anyway.”

“You didn’t even know he’d be coming back home…” Louis looks at him curiously.

Harry shrugs. “It was more for me…just in case.”

Louis looks sad at the thought.

There are a lot of things that happened while they were gone that no one had planned for. It felt like Louis and Liam were the ones that got off easy in a sense. Maybe Harry and Niall were connected in someway that made them more vulnerable to the bad things in life. Whether they’re together or apart, Harry felt like they were running away from those things for a long time before it all caught up with them.

Harry can’t tell if he’s doing this just to punish himself.  There’s a piece of him that believes that he still has a responsibility to Niall.

Their relationship doesn’t feel over in the sense that it wasn’t face to face. Niall left him a note saying that he wasn’t coming back, but Harry had a lingering hope that Niall would change his mind once his tour was over.  But even now, between the anger and the yelling, Harry still feels the weight of the ring dangling from his neck. The one that any sane man would’ve pawned off or at least taken off by now, but Harry can’t bring himself to do that.

If for whatever reason, Niall asked for the ring back, Harry thinks he would part with it, but he knows that both their names are engraved on that ring and to part with it would make it feel like it didn’t happen at all.

They were together for good and bad times, and maybe the weight of the bad times got too heavy. Too heavy for the other to help carry load and that’s where it started to fall apart.

Harry can’t think of the exact moment it started to happen, but it was definitely somewhere during their last tour and it was impossible to hold onto a relationship, to keep it from tearing apart, when they couldn’t comfort or touch each other like they wanted to.

Harry remembers the quiet moments where they’d be sitting in the barracks and he’d look at Niall and want nothing more than to hold Niall in his arms and tell him it was all going to be okay. 

He should’ve known better.

They were idiots to think that everything would work out. There wasn’t even the guarantee that both or even one of them would make it home, the idea that nothing would change in four years after being shot at, seeing other people get shot or blown up, or they themselves being wounded, it was all a pipe dream.

He thought that they got through the toughest part of things when they both were on their way back home together. He should’ve known that it wouldn’t be that easy.

 

Harry waits out in the car while Bressie goes in to deal with Niall’s discharge from the hospital.

He almost went inside if not to just escape the cold, but Harry and Bressie both knew that Niall wouldn’t want to see Harry, at least out in the car, they could scream at each other without the doctors and hospital staff gawking at them, if it came to that.

Harry gets out when he sees Bressie come out pushing Niall in the wheelchair. Niall looks annoyed which only gets worse when he sees Harry.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” Niall says under his breath.

Harry tries to ignore it; the way that it stings and makes his heart sink in his chest.

He takes the bag from Bressie and puts it in the boot while Bressie helps a reluctant Niall get into the backseat.  

Bressie comes around to put the wheelchair in the boot. He puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Everything’s going to work out,” Bressie whispers before he gets in the driver’s seat.

Harry takes a deep breath before he gets back in the car. His eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror where he can see Niall sitting in the backseat staring out the window.

He looks so different. His hair is fully brown and the scruff on his face isn’t something he’s ever really seen on Niall before. The light in his eyes is nowhere to be found and it breaks Harry’s heart.

When they get back to Harry’s house. Harry gets the bag from the boot and goes on ahead to unlock the door, while Bressie gets Niall back into his wheelchair.

Harry sets the bag behind the couch and tries to busy himself when Bressie wheels Niall into the house. He doesn’t want to see the look on Niall’s face. He knows this is the last place Niall ever wanted to be.

“I’ve got te open the pub, but I can come back later if—”

“It’s fine,” Niall says flatly.

“Okay…um, call if you need anything, yeah?” Bressie says. He looks at Harry with a sad expression before he leaves.

Harry stands there for a moment, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. “I figured you could sleep in—”

“I’ll take the extra bedroom,” Niall says without acknowledging Harry.

“I just thought—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Niall says in a low tone. He looks at Harry from across the room. “Let’s get one thing straight here; I don’t want to be back in this stupid fucking house, I don’t want to be anywhere near you…I don’t even want to hear you. I told you this was over. We aren’t going to play house and magically get back together. I’m only here because I have no other fucking choice. Even just being in the same vicinity as you, makes me want to pull my own skin off, so just shut the fuck up.” Niall grabs the bag off the floor and sets it on his lap before he wheels himself down that hall, to the extra bedroom and closes the door behind him.

 

+++

 

Harry stands quietly behind the bar. He switched shifts with one of the other bartenders so that he could take the early shift. 

Niall’s been home for almost a month and neither of them have been sleeping.

Niall starts screaming in the middle of the night and if it weren’t for the police showing up in the middle of the night, Harry would’ve stayed in his bed with his pillow over his head, praying for Niall to stop.

Harry locks his door at night. He has no choice, but to lock his bedroom door.  He was terrified of Niall coming after him while he was sleeping. Yeah, Niall only had one leg and the wheelchair and the crutches weren’t ideal when one has blacked out, but Harry still worried about it.

The doctors at the hospital that Bressie found for Niall’s rehab are already working on getting Niall into a clinical trial or another program to get him a prosthetic leg. From what Bressie says, the doctors hope that by giving Niall some of his mobility back that his emotional health will improve.

Harry sees it as Niall being, no pun intended, one step closer to being able to live on his own, but he also acknowledges that the increased mobility might put Harry in danger.

He feels awful even thinking it. How you can go from sharing a bed with the love of your life to fearing that the same person might accidentally or purposefully kill you in your sleep.

Louis and Liam were constantly getting Harry out of the house. He didn’t tell them about anything that was going on with Niall. He didn’t want to worry them, but the dark circles and general exhaustion that Harry carried around with him every day seemed like evidence enough for them.

Louis and Liam, and even Nick and Bressie, kept telling him that he didn’t have to stay with Niall or in that house at all, but despite Niall’s anger and hate toward Harry, Harry couldn’t leave.  In some ways he feels that his and Niall’s journeys are intertwined. That whatever the outcome of all of this, they have to do this part of it together.

It’s almost masochistic the way that Harry feels like he deserves the emotional pain that Niall deals out.  And it’s not so much the things that Niall says to him as more the absolute silence and disinterest that Niall brings with him everywhere.

Josh drops something in the kitchen and it makes Harry jump as he tries to focus on being at work. Bressie comes in through the front door followed by another man.

Harry looks at the other guy a moment before he has the spark of recognition.

“Harry, you remember Eoghan McDermott, right?” Bressie says gesturing toward Eoghan.

“Yeah, last I heard you were training to be a police officer?” Harry questions as he shakes Eoghan’s hand over the bar.

“Just finished my training. Staying local for the time being,” Eoghan says sitting down next to Bressie at the bar.

Bressie and Eoghan went to school together, they were only a couple years apart but they both served and ran into each other while they were deployed.  Eoghan was one of the first bartenders at the pub when Bressie opened it a few years back. Niall knew Eoghan better since they got to know each other while Niall was living with Bressie when he turned eighteen. 

Harry talked to him a few times when he’d come by to see Niall, but Eoghan moved away hoping to find a better job somewhere else and Bressie didn’t take offense. He always thought of the pub as being a stepping stone until they figured out what they wanted to do when they got out of the military.

Harry vaguely remembers Bressie talking to Dan about Eoghan becoming a police officer and Harry only took notice because of how happy Bressie looked over the news.

“How’d you lads fare over there?” Eoghan asks looking at Harry.

“Some good…others not so much,” Harry says looking down at the bar.

“I heard about Nialler,” Eoghan says in a sad tone. “How’s he doing now that he’s home?”

Harry shrugs vaguely, trying to busy himself with getting them a couple drinks. “He’s uh…he’s just angry, mostly,” Harry finds himself mutter. He doesn’t mean to say it.

“He do anything to you?” Bressie asks in a serious tone as he leans toward Harry across the bar.

Harry keeps his eyes down and he shakes his head. “No, he just…he mostly doesn’t say much to me anymore.”

“When was the last time you actually slept?” Bressie asks.

Harry shrugs again. “Whenever I fell asleep on the couch in your office, I guess.”

“Harry, that was almost a week ago…”

Harry looks up at Bressie. “It’s not that bad. He can’t help it.  None of us just assimilated back into our normal lives right away.  I still have nightmares. He went through hell…he’s allowed to not be alright.”

“Harry, speaking from experience,” Eoghan cuts in. “I also know that the things that happen to us in war don’t give us a free pass to treat people like shit. They give us room to breathe not room to destroy.”

“He’s right, H. Maybe a least stay here a few days and I can deal with him for a while,” Bressie says with soft eyes.

“It’s fine, really,” Harry protests. “It hasn’t been as bad lately.” He’s not sure if it’s a lie or something that he just wants to be true.  Either way, he isn’t about to let Bressie or anyone else stay with Niall. Mostly because they will realize how much Harry doesn’t tell them about Niall’s condition.

 

 

Harry sits at the bar listening to Louis ramble on about how ridiculous it is American football is called football in the first place. 

Christmas music plays over the speakers and there are lights and garland hung around the perimeter walls that Harry helped Bressie hang up around the start of December but now it’s Christmas Eve and Louis, Liam, Harry, and Nick all decided to go to the pub during the afternoon, so they’d be sober enough to drive home to see their respective families for the holidays.

Harry, though the others don’t know it, won’t be going home. Aside from offering to open and close the pub while Bressie went to Ireland for the holidays, Gemma decided to treat Anne to a getaway Christmas in Italy, which Harry was invited to since it was his first Christmas home, but he told them to go ahead without him and have fun.

Harry left the house without telling Niall a thing. It’s the way they function now. Harry says where he’ll be and when he’ll be back and Niall either doesn’t reply or acknowledge Harry in the slightest or he’ll string together a few profanities about how much he doesn’t care.

Harry had one pint, or is still enjoying one pint, because that’s all he would allow himself.  He, Nick, and Bressie came to a deal when it came to Harry’s drinking, which was no hard liquor and only on special occasions, and even then, he could only have one drink.  Harry felt good about that decision, though Louis was not happy that Harry couldn’t do a birthday shot with the rest of them, but he understood why.

Harry gives the rest of the lads hugs before they part ways.  Harry has to go back to the pub later on to help close but he’s a free man until then, that is, until he remembers that Niall is at the house still.

Niall’s sitting in his wheelchair watching some nature documentary with a beer in his hand when Harry walks into the house. 

Harry gets a water bottle from the fridge before he closes himself in his bedroom. He takes out his laptop and puts on headphones and starts watching random Christmas movies on Netflix.

He wants them to cheer him up or at least make him forget that he’s in all technicality, alone on Christmas.

He thinks that maybe he should’ve gone with Gemma and his mum to Italy, instead of sitting by himself, locked in his bedroom watching other fake families work their problems out in time to have a beautiful holiday together.

It’s six in that evening and Harry sits there thinking for a moment, trying to remember what they used to do as a family on Christmas Eve and then he remembers the church services that they went to.

It was just telling Christmas stories and singing Christmas songs. They used to pick up Niall at his foster parents’ house and then he’d spend the evening with them and stay overnight to have Christmas with the Styles family.

Harry gets up and goes to his closet and finds a nicer navy-blue button-down shirt to put on with a decent pair of blue jeans. He knows that he’ll be going alone but he doesn’t care. He needs to get out of the house for a while without having any of his friends look at him like he might break at any given moment.

He throws on his heavy, wool-lined coat and a scarf, alone with a knit hat. It’s a longer walk to the church, and the service starts soon, but he’ll just sit in the back and try to enjoy the peace that used to come over him when he went there with his family.

“’m going out for a bit,” Harry says and he goes out the front door not even bothering to wait for a response from Niall, because he knows he won’t get one.

He enjoys the cold. His favorite parts of the day are when he walks to and from the pub. It’s quiet and peaceful and he feels like it’s just him in the world for a little while.  He loves when it snows and he can hear the crunch of the fresh snow under his boots.

He gets to the church and he can hear them singing “Joy to the World”. Luckily, because everyone is singing along with each other, no one notices him slip into one of the pews in the back. 

He doesn’t really sing along. He just listens to everyone else. Closing his eyes for a moment, trying to forget how much his life has changed since the last time he was there.

Pastor Roth recites the story of Jesus’ birth, partly from memory. A little girl in the row in front of Harry turns around and starts staring at him. She smiles and giggles before she waves at him, which causes her mother to turn around and upon noticing Harry sitting there, glares at him and promptly makes the little girl face forward and sit down.

This happens a few times over the next hour. People who see Harry sitting there by himself would glare and turn around, making sure not to look at him again.

The choir starts in with “Silent Night” and Harry’s fingers curl around the edge of the pew.

He remembers when they were all tired and worn out after almost a week of sitting in the jagged hills in Afghanistan. They were sitting in the barracks. Reading letters from home hurt too much at the time and they were all sitting quietly in their bunks, when Niall started singing “Silent Night” in a low tone, but it was so quiet that the rest of the men around him could hear and they all slowly started singing along in at a whisper.  Niall looked at Harry and Harry could see a tear run down Niall’s cheek.

“Silent Night” was Harry’s favorite Christmas song. He always liked the somber songs better than the fun ones, but Harry liked “Silent Night” the most. To the point where Niall learned some of the words in German, because Harry said he thought the German version was the best.  It reminded him of the Christmas Truce during World War I. The unofficial ceasefire that allowed both sides to put down their weapons and come together for a brief time of happiness before they went back to their respective trenches and the firing recommenced.

Harry feels his heart pumping in his chest as the entire church continues with the song. He can’t stay there. He gathers up his coat and makes his way back out toward the lobby of the church where the voices are more muffled. He puts his coat back on as he exits out the front doors and heads toward the pub.

The pub is calm but a little crowded when he gets there, and Dan gives him a curious look when he walks over and sits at the bar.

“Didn’t think I’d see you for a few more hours,” Dan says.  “It’s hardly eight.”

“Don’t have much else to do,” Harry replies quickly. He looks around the pub a moment before putting his attention back on Dan. “Why don’t you go home,” Harry offers. “I can handle all this.”

“You’re sure?” Dan asks tentatively.  “Bressie already paid me for the night and—”

“I’m sure. Get out of here I know you wanted to drive down to see your sister anyway. If Bressie has an issue with it, he can deal with me.”

“Alright, thanks Harry,” Dan replies with a smile.

“No problem, happy Christmas, yeah?”

“Yeah, happy Christmas.” Dan changes out the tip jar and deals out the cash between him and Josh before he puts on his jacket. He goes into the back to tell Josh what’s going on and he comes back out with a smile on his face. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Enjoy your time off,” Harry says from behind the bar.

He lets Josh shut down the kitchen around nine and lets him leave early too.

He doesn’t blame Bressie for having them work late on Christmas Eve.  Normally Bressie does most of it himself so he doesn’t have to ask anyone else to cover the shift, but he paid them overtime for it anyway.  Even after Josh and Dan are gone, Harry splits the tips and gives it to the two of them. 

Harry almost doesn’t want to close the pub, once everyone leaves. He doesn’t want to go home just yet even though he still has to sweep and wipe everything down. He takes his time, lets the music take over his mind instead of the worry of going home to Niall.

He sits at the bar a while, mustering up the courage to go home, but instead, he turns off all the lights and goes up to Bressie’s flat, kicking his shoes off, before he lies down on the extra bed in the corner.

A decent night’s sleep will be his Christmas present to himself, but instead, Harry lies in bed, the complete silence around him making his mind wonder. His friends are with their families tonight and Niall, who Harry always considered to be a part of his family, wouldn’t give it a second thought if Harry didn’t come home.

Maybe he shouldn’t go home.

His friends wouldn’t blame him if he just took off. They’d understand, and Niall wouldn’t care in the slightest. Louis, Liam, Nick, and Bressie might be proud or happy for him if he didn’t go back. He thinks about leaving.  He thinks about the calls he’ll get from each of them. Maybe one day he’ll get a call saying that Niall was starting to come around. That Niall misses him and he’s sorry for everything.

Harry climbs out of bed and stands over by the window looking outside where the streets are empty and a light snow falls casting everything white. He thinks about how easy it would be to open the window, remove the screen and jump.  The only thing that keeps him from doing it is that there’s no guarantee that hitting the sidewalk below would kill him.

That thought makes Harry’s heart stutter. 

The thought feels freeing and terrifying at the same time. Like the pain and emptiness he feels will be numbed but at the same time he’s afraid to miss what happens next.

Maybe he’ll miss when things finally turn around and all of his friends and family would wish that he could be there to see it; that if he would’ve just held on a little longer he would’ve made it to a better and happier point in his life.

Maybe they wouldn’t blame him for doing it.

His heart races in his chest and he slides down onto the floor, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

He scrolls through and finds Nick’s number and puts the phone to his ear.

It rings and rings until the voicemail comes on.

“Hey, you’ve reached Nick Grimshaw, leave a message or don’t, I really don’t care.”

“Nick…” Harry breathes in trying to even out his voice. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Harry’s eyes glance at the window. “I don’t want to do it.” Harry takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. He looks at the clock on the wall and it’s almost 4am. “You’re probably still sleeping. It’s alight. ‘m sorry.” Harry hangs up and tosses his phone on the floor next to him.

He stays there a while longer and gets up when the sun starts to come up. He puts his jacket and boots back on and heads down and out of the pub.

Harry gets back to the house and sees Niall’s wheelchair sitting empty by the refrigerator. 

“Niall?” Harry says. He’s not really sure that he wants a response, but the empty chair has him at least a little worried. Harry walks further into the house. “Ni—”

Harry sees Niall’s lying on the floor of the kitchen with his back leaning against the cabinets. There’s a gash on his forehead and his eyes are closed.

“Niall?” Harry says frantically as he kneels down beside Niall.  He’s still breathing, and Harry puts his hand on Niall’s shoulder trying to get him to wake up. “C’mon…Niall?”

Niall’s eyes open a little ways, but as soon as he sees Harry, his face goes stern.

“The fuck are you doing?” Niall grumbles.  “Get my fucking chair.”

“I think I should call for an ambulance. You might have a concussion.” Harry looks at the gash on Niall’s forehead.  The blood is already dried where it ran down his face and neck then onto his shirt.

Niall grabs Harry by the collar and pulls him in. “You get me stuck in another hospital and I’ll fucking kill you.”

The last part makes Harry’s stomach churn and not because of the threat, but rather, the familiarity of the words and the sentiment in the back of his mind.

“Get. My. Fucking. Chair,” Niall growls before he lets go of Harry.

Harry nods, stands up and moves Niall’s wheelchair over so Niall can get in it.

Niall tries to climb onto the chair by himself, but can’t get the leverage he needs so Harry, against Niall’s wishes, picks up Niall by under his arms and puts him in the chair and before Niall even has the chance to say anything to Harry, Harry walks off into his bedroom and slams the door behind him.

Harry tries to sleep again but his phone goes off and he picks it up only for the panic in Nick’s voice to really wake him up.

“Harry? Please tell me you’re alright. Harry?”

“’m fine, Nick.” Harry sits up and rubs his eyes.

“Harry, the voicemail you left me—” There’s a slight crack in Nick’s voice.

“I’m fine, Nick, really…”

“For how often you say that, I still don’t believe it,” Nick says in a calmer tone.

“It was just a tough night, but I’m home now, trying to get some sleep, Niall’s mad at me again, though I’m not sure he ever stopped being mad at me, and everything’s back to normal.”

“Normal still isn’t good in your situation, you know that right?” Nick replies. “Where were you last night anyway?”

“Closed down the pub then I tried sleeping at Bressie’s…it was too quiet.”

“I can come home, if you want…” Nick offers.

Harry knows he can’t ask Nick to drive back for him, he knows how much Nick was looking forward to spending some time with his mum. “No, I’m good. I’m gonna try to sleep for a little bit and then I’ll watch some stupid movies on Netflix or something.”

“You’ll call me if you need me right? God knows I’m going to worry about you all day anyway.”

“Don’t,” Harry says. “I’m good and I’ll call if anything changes, I promise. Give your mum a hug for me, yeah?” Harry says changing the subject. He’d never get Nick off the phone if Nick thought he was going to do something stupid.

“Yeah…” Nick pauses a bit. “I love you, you know that right? You’re my best mate and I’d be lost without you.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I feel the same about you.”

“Good,” Nick says with finality. “Happy Christmas, Harold.”

“Happy Christmas, Nick.” Harry hangs up and plugs his phone back into the charger on the nightstand. He gets comfortable in bed again and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know if what Nick said is true. He knows Nick loves him, but he’s sure that Nick would be fine without him.

 

+++

 

Pretending is a lot harder than he anticipated.

It’s easy around Niall. Niall already acts like Harry’s dead to him anyway, so pretending to be alright…pretending to be happy isn’t really a high priority at home.

But with the others, there’s one thing about putting on an act for the patrons at the pub for a shift, but then a shift turns into conversations with Bressie or Liam and Louis when they come by after work some days.

It’s not even Niall’s fault anymore.

Harry has realized that Niall was right when he left in the first place.  This town, places like this, they just suck you in and they squeeze until there’s nothing left.  There’s no starting over in a town like this and there’s no moving up or forward, it’s just more of the same. Day in and day out, the same thing over and over.  And before you know it, months have gone by and the only thing that changes is the weather.

It’s July.

Niall’s gotten a prosthetic leg.  Bressie refers to the more advanced model as Niall’s ‘Terminator leg’ and it wasn’t easy to get. The first trial they tried to get Niall into, he didn’t make it pass the interview process. And it wasn’t like trials and prosthetic legs grow on trees. Well, the ‘Peg leg’ model was as good as a stick with a shoe on it that gave very little mobility.  Bressie continued to go to physical therapy with Niall once a week but getting the leg didn’t brighten Niall’s spirits like the doctors thought it would. If anything, he got worse with his newly found mobility and Harry got used to locking his door.

What can be said for people doing the same things at the same times with the same behaviors?  Harry sees it and he wonders if the rest of them know that they are just at stuck there as he is.  Liam got a job with a construction company, he drives an hour to work every morning and is pretty much dead by the time he gets home in the evenings. Louis on the other hand started working security at a bank in town and he’s miserable and Harry’s pretty sure that Louis misses getting shot at. It’s all exhausting and monotonous. 

But on the bright side, everyone else is so miserable that they don’t notice how withdrawn Harry’s become.   

“How much longer do you think it will be?” Bressie asks snapping Harry back into reality.

“How much longer will what be?” Harry looks at Bressie.

“Until you don’t need to live with Niall anymore? I mean, he’s got the leg, he can get around by himself now, so why don’t you move out…or kick him out?”

Harry’s head throbs. He’s had a headache for the better part of the week and nothing he does seems to help it any. “Haven’t thought about leaving in a while…just doesn’t seem worth it anymore.”

“Harry, it’s been what? Like eight months since he’s been back and nothing’s gotten better. You’ve got to stop waiting for things to change and change things yourself.”

“I’m not waiting for things to change,” Harry says in a low tone. God, his head hurts. He doesn’t want to say that he’s given up altogether…even though he has. “And it’s not like the rest of you are helping the situation. You still take him to physical therapy every week and Louis, for the first time in his life, is too afraid to say anything against Niall. Which I get, he and Liam were there when it happened, neither of them what to discredit what Niall went through.”

“I only take him to physical therapy because it was a means to an end,” Bressie says pointedly. “He gets better and the two of you get to move on from each other.”

“Like I said, none of it’s worth it anymore,” Harry say softly.  “Niall got back at me for what I did. We’re in this hell together.”

“You didn’t do anything to deserve all this.”

“Niall blames me for what happened to him, and maybe, in some weird way, it was my fault, but that’s not for me to decide. In his mind, I hurt him. I can’t just decide that I didn’t.”

“That kind of thinking is going to kill you, Haz,” Bressie says. 

And Harry hopes that Bressie’s right.

 

+++

 

Niall starts screaming again, but it’s not like before. It’s 2:34 in the morning, which isn’t the unusual part. The strange part of it is that he’s crying out…he’s crying out Harry’s name.

Months of this. On and off, but it happens at least once a week. Niall yelling in his sleep.

Sometimes, Harry can recognize what he’s yelling about. He recognizes the words and the situation. And he lies in bed listening to Niall yell as Harry thinks about why Niall’s mind would choose that mission or that moment to terrorize Niall with.

But this time, Niall’s calling out Harry’s name. Pleading with him to stay.

Harry lies in bed a moment. His heart is racing in his chest from being woken up so abruptly. He thought after going through this for the last few months or so that he’d be used to it, but he’s not.

“Harry!” Niall calls out. He sounds like he’s in pain and that’s the only thing that gets Harry out of bed. 

Harry quietly unlocks his bedroom door and walks quietly down the hall to Niall’s room, where he can still hear Niall on the other side of the door, but Harry’s hand pauses on the doorknob.

He takes a deep breath before he opens the door, peering into the room.

He sees Niall in bed on his side. The entire back of his shirt is soaked through with sweat.

“Harry…please don’t leave me,” Niall pleads, curling his arms around his bunched up sheets, taking fistfuls of the sheets in his hands. “I don’t wanna die, Harry. Don’t leave me…”

“Niall?” Harry’s voice comes out choked.  He reaches out and puts his hand on Niall’s shoulder. “Niall, wake up…” Harry shakes Niall’s shoulder a little. “Niall…”

There’s a deep intake of air and suddenly Niall whips around and grabs Harry by the wrist as hard as he can.  Niall’s eyes look confused and terrified.

“Niall, it’s me. Let go,” Harry says trying to get out of Niall’s grip.

Niall looks at Harry and suddenly lets go of Harry’s wrist, making Harry fall to the floor. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” Niall says out of breath and angry. “Get the fuck out of here!”

Harry scrambles to get up and out of the room before Niall gets even more upset.

He quickly walks back to his room and locks the door behind him before he sits down on the bed. Harry doesn’t even know what he was doing in there.  What did he expect to happen? That Niall would call out for him and Harry would comfort him, after months of abuse from Niall, that was going to be what turned him around?

Harry feels like a fucking idiot, because he is a fucking idiot. He thought he convinced himself that he and Niall would never be more than strangers to each other ever again, but Harry can feel it in his chest; that crushing feeling of being let down by someone you care about.

It’s potent and unwavering, and the feeling makes Harry want to puke. Still after all this time, he still cares about Niall even when Niall hates him.

Harry squeezes the skin of his thigh. He never wants to make that mistake again. He wants to never feel that way about Niall ever again. Even if he has to rewrite some things in his head, he can’t just convince himself, he has to believe that Niall hates him and that will never change. He has to hate Niall in return. There’s no other way to carry on without getting hurt again if he can’t do that. From this moment on, Niall Horan is nothing to Harry.

 

+++

 

September.

Harry’s stopped living. It seems like a drastic thing to say but Liam said it to Louis, who nodded in agreement. Harry’s been on autopilot for months now and no matter what anyone else says or does Harry doesn’t care enough to do anything about it. In talking with Bressie about it, Bressie said that he figures that he can’t do anything unless Harry wants help, but as long as he keeps showing up for work, that’s all he can ask for. It’s not that Bressie only cared about Harry making it in to work at the pub, but rather if he was at the pub working, at least Bressie could keep an eye on him.

Nick put the rest of the lads on edge about Harry’s condition when he told them about the voicemail Harry left him the prior year’s Christmas. So, it’s been months of worrying about Harry, of trying to get him out of the house and away from Niall.

Those tactics included a lot of random trips places and going to see a lot of movies. They’d taken Harry on trips to see their families, but never Harry’s mum or sister. Bringing them up only seemed to make Harry shut down even more.

Liam and Louis come over one evening to pick up Harry at the house, so they can go to a movie a couple towns over, since their theater doesn’t always show new movies right away and they’d already seen three of the movies that were still playing there.

Harry’s not at the house like he said he’d be though.  The house is a bit of a mess. Harry had a tendency to clean when he didn’t know what else to do. Niall used to do the same when his anxiety would act up when they were younger, but now it seemed like neither of them cared enough to clean much at all.

Niall begrudgingly lets Louis and Liam into the house and goes back to the kitchen to finish chopping whatever was on the cutting board. Niall seems pissed about something and Liam figures that Niall and Harry got into another fight, but what worries Liam the most is the fact that Harry is off on his own and not in a good state of mind.

Louis tries ringing Harry. “He’s not answering,” Louis says. He hangs up and looks at Liam, who instantly looks at Niall.

He ignores them and keeps his eyes trained on the knife and cutting board.

“What’d you do this time?” Liam says accusatorily at Niall, who puts down the knife.

“Liam, don’t. It’s not worth it,” Louis groans.

Liam’s tired of Louis skirting around Niall. Even if Niall is broken, he’s still being a complete jackass.

Louis seems scared now. His quietness since they’ve gotten home hasn’t done favors for anyone. He used to make jokes and call people out on their bullshit, but he just seemed tired and afraid of confronting anyone.

“No, I’m tried of this shit, Lou. I’m tired of his shit.” Liam points at Niall. “He has no right to treat Harry the way he has since he got back. So what, Niall? You lost your fucking leg. You’re still alive. Get over it. It’s not Harry’s fault. None of it is.”

Niall’s eyes look angry, making Liam wonder if Niall would hit him if he got the chance. Harry told them over and over that he was fine and that what Niall was doing didn’t affect him anymore, but they could see the changes in Harry. They could all see how withdrawn he’s gotten. He puts on a brave face but he’s not Harry anymore and that’s Niall’s fault.

“Get the fuck out of this house,” Niall says angrily. He wipes at his face before they can see the tears building up in his eyes. They don’t get it.

“No,” Liam says shaking his head. “I’m not leaving until I get a fucking answer. Why do you blame Harry so much? What did he do to you that was so awful that—”

“How can you stand there and ask me that when you were there?” Niall says; his hands ball up into fists at his side and Liam can’t help but take a step back.

“I don’t understand, Niall,” Liam says in a softer tone.  “I don’t remember Harry doing anything to you. Not something that would warrant your behavior over the last year,” Liam says.

“He left me there!” Niall shouts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I got hit. I thought I was going to die and Harry just left me there!”

Liam and Louis both give him confused expressions.

“The fuck are you talking about, mate?” Louis asks tentatively.

Niall looks between the two of them.  “The car bomb went off and I was in agonizing pain. Harry stood there, staring at me and I begged him to help me. I begged him not to go and he left me there to die.  You were there.  You saw him leave me.”

Silence hangs in the room as Louis and Liam stare blankly back at Niall.

Louis shifts awkwardly. “You’ve got te be kidding me…” he mumbles to himself as he turns away, running his hands through his hair.

“Niall…Harry wasn’t there, mate,” Liam says softly. “Harry’s been here. You were the one that left him. You wrote him a note saying that you couldn’t stay here, and you got on that bus with me and went back over there, but Harry stayed here.”

Niall stares at Liam. “No,” he replies shaking his head. He remembers the way the dim light hit Harry’s hair as he stared down at Niall who was lying there, bleeding to death in the middle of the dirt road. He remembers how stern and harsh Harry seemed. How it didn’t seem like the Harry he knew.

“Harry wasn’t there when that bomb went off.” Liam takes a couple steps toward Niall. “I mean, just think about the rest of the time we were there. Harry wasn’t there with us at the barracks or out on maneuvers or at the check points. He’s been here.”

“No.” Niall puts his hand up and backs away from Liam. “No, I remember him being there. He was there and he left me to die. He wanted me to die.”

“Why would Harry want you to die?” Liam questions.

“Because I wasn’t good enough for him…because I left him and he hated me for it, so he left me there to die.” Niall starts to cry. His voice wavers and he’s so confused. His hands shake uncontrollably, and the air feels tight and thick.

Liam sees it for the first time since they’ve been back; it’s the real Niall. The one who cared and loved. There’s something in Niall’s eyes. Almost a year of Niall being so brutal to Harry. All the therapy and doctors never figured it out. They never asked the right questions, but then again, none of Niall’s friends, the people who were supposed to care about him, ever asked any questions at all. They all thought they knew why Niall was so different. He’d been wounded. Ripped apart. They thought it was about being back home…being back in that house with Harry, who he tried to leave, but it was something completely different.

“You left him,” Liam points out. “You remember leaving him…”

Niall’s mouth goes dry and he backs up into the refrigerator. “He was there, Liam.”

“I know you might think that. Your head might’ve convinced you that Harry was there, but he wasn’t Niall. He wasn’t there for it.”

“You said his name when we got to you,” Louis adds from where he stands in the living room. “You were asking him not to leave you, but he wasn’t there.”

Niall’s breathing gets heavier and he looks anywhere but the two men in the room. “What did I do?” he chokes out.

“Niall, you can’t blame yourself,” Liam says in a soft tone.  “Your mind just rewrote things a bit.”

“I thought he wanted me to die,” Niall cries, propping himself up against the fridge. “I didn’t know…”

“I know, mate,” Liam says calmly.

“What did I do?” Niall repeats.

“No, we can still fix this, Niall,” Liam reassures him taking another step toward him.

Niall shakes his head. “No…No!” Niall quickly grabs the knife off the cutting board and points it at Liam. “No…I messed up…I wanted him to hurt as much as I did. I didn’t—”

“Niall, please put this knife down,” Liam tries to calm him down and Louis moves so that he’s a little closer to Liam.

“I wanted it to be over,” Niall murmurs. “He left me, and I wanted to die. It’s my fault. I ruined everything.” Niall turns the knife toward himself. The tip of it hovering just above his stomach. “I should’ve died over there.” Niall pulls back the knife. 

“No!” Liam shouts and just as soon as Niall moves to stab himself, Liam tackles him to the ground.

“Liam?” Louis rushes over and automatically starts checking Liam for any wounds, but then Liam looks at Niall.

“Oh god, Niall…” Liam kneels beside Niall and rolls him onto his back.

Liam moves Niall’s hand away from where it’s already covered in blood. There’s about a five-inch cut along the top of Niall’s stomach.

“You should’ve just let me do it,” Niall mutters; his face going pale.

“Louis, call for an ambulance,” Liam says over his shoulder as he applies pressure to Niall’s wound. Liam looks down at Niall’s face. “You’re never allowed to do anything like this ever again…you hear me?” Liam says quickly.  “’m tired of thinking I’m going to lose you.”

 

+++

 

Harry sits quietly under the arch of the viaduct.  He wraps his coat tight around him, pulling up the collar to block the wind. He closes his eyes, thinking of when the grass was green, and he and Niall loved each other, but it feels like a false memory now.  A contradiction and a false time. 

He tries to think of where to go where no one would ask questions. He’s so tired of people asking questions. It’s like they thought that if they asked more questions that somehow Harry would miraculously feel better, but it just makes him feel worse for lying. It makes him tired.

Harry gets up and walks back toward the road and follows it into town. There’s an inn on the other side of town that was as good of a place as any for Harry to stay, at least just for the night.

He makes it there and his feet hurt and the clerk behind the desk gives him a strange look when he asks for a room for the night.

Harry wonders whether the guy knows him. Maybe he’s come into the bar, but Harry sees so many people throughout his shift that he doesn’t recognize the man at all.

The man hands him his key and Harry walks off without another word to go find his room. The place isn’t anything fancy. It’s a bit dingy, but he just wants to be alone, so it will have to do for now.

He knows he has to go back home at some point and he dreads it. So, when he wakes up the next morning, just as tired as he was when he went to sleep, he tries to think of anywhere else to go.

He goes to the movie theater in town. He doesn’t even watch the movie really, or he watches it without paying attention, but it’s a good way to kill two hours and after he goes into another movie, he knows he’s been there for almost five hours.  He thinks that maybe he should call someone or at least send someone a text saying that he’s fine, so they don’t come looking for him, but his phone’s been dead since last night. 

He walks out of the theater and can see the pub down the road. It would be easy enough to go in and talk to Bressie for five seconds, but he can’t bear the thought of having to go through with that. Talking just seems like such a chore anymore.  

Harry crosses the road but goes in the opposite direction of the pub. It wasn’t really his plan to go home, but that’s where he’s headed.

He gets to the house and stands outside for a moment just staring at it.  It feels the same way he thinks standing outside of a haunted house would.

There were stories about the viaduct being haunted. A lot of people died there over the years. Some on purpose, jumping from the top or choosing it as a good place to overdose. Some fell others got lost or trapped in the passageways.  And yet, that was where they would hang out as kids.  They never went up top, but always stayed on the ground. They were there almost every day. Maybe there was a piece of them that thought they were the reason the number of suicides decreased over the last twelve years or so.

Harry walks up the steps to the front door and is a little thrown off when the door is locked. He digs his keys out of his pocket and unlocks it.

The house is dark when he opens the door. Things are still scattered over the living room.

He walks further into the house and even without turning on a light he can see the blood on the floor in the kitchen.

He stares at it a moment before he sits down on the floor next to it, with his back leaning against the counter. 

He doesn’t realize that he left the front door open until someone walks into the house; their shadow casts across the wood floor. He knows who it is without looking.

“I was relieved…” Harry says. “When I first saw the blood on the floor…there was a moment where I thought he might be dead and I was relieved. Now, I don’t think I really feel anything. Is that bad?”

“Harry…” Liam starts to say.

“Is he?” Harry cuts him off. He still doesn’t look at Liam. “Is he dead?”

“No…” Liam replies softly. “He tried to stab himself, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. They’ve got him on suicide watch for now and then they’re going to put him in a facility for a while.” Liam pauses, and Harry knows that he’s waiting for a response.  “The reason Niall was—”

“I don’t care…”

“He—”

“Liam…” Harry looks at him for the first time.  “I really don’t care…whether or not…if he was dead, it wouldn’t change anything. Niall’s been dead to me for a long time.”

“Harry…” Liam says. “Harry, maybe you should get out of this house for a while. Come stay with one of us for a little…you know, get your head on straight, because the way you’re talking right now is starting to worry me. I’ve been calling you with no answer…you’ve been worrying all of us for a while now.”

Harry lets out a small laugh. He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out anyway.  He looks at the blood on the floor beside him then stares straight ahead. “I’ll be fine.”

“Harry, I—”

“I’ve got to get ready for work,” Harry says, and he gets up from the floor.

“Don’t brush this off, Harry. You need to talk to someone. You need—”

“I don’t need anything, Liam.” Harry walks into his bedroom. “I just want to be left alone.” Harry closes the door and locks it.  He waits there a moment until he hears Liam leave before he goes into the bathroom and starts the shower.

 

+++

 

Niall comes back home about a month later.  Liam pushes the wheelchair while Louis follows, holding the case with Niall’s leg in it and a couple other bags.

The two of them were in and out of the house about once a week getting things for Niall while he was at the facility.

Liam tried telling Harry about what was going on, but Harry didn’t care enough to listen.

Niall looks reserved and sad as Liam wheels him into the house.  The anger seems like it was stripped away from him and what’s left is just a shell.

“I’ll get him set up in the bedroom,” Liam says to Louis, pushing Niall down the hall to the extra room.

“He should probably eat something,” Louis says, and he opens the fridge, which is all but empty. “Harry, when was the last time you went to the shop?”

Harry shrugs and picks the mail up off the coffee table.

“Christ, alright.” Louis goes down the hall and Harry can hear him whispering something to Liam and he comes back out with Liam’s car keys and goes back out the front door.

Liam comes back out a few minutes later. “He’s gonna be out of it for a while. The Dr. Holt had him on one medication, but it didn’t work so he switched him to something else so he’s just trying to level out.”

“Whatever,” Harry sits down on the couch and opens one of the bills in the pile of mail.

“What’s up with you?” Liam asks.

“Not sure what you mean,” Harry replies not paying attention to Liam.

“Look, I know how tough it’s been for you dealing with him.  I wasn’t here for a lot of it, but I’ve seen the toll it’s taken on you, but Niall wasn’t in his right mind. He was confused, but when they first started medicating him, I saw him start to come back. I talked to him for the first time in what feels like forever. And god, Harry, I’m just begging you that I don’t get one friend back just to lose the other.”

Harry stands up and takes the stack of mail with him. “I’m not going anywhere, Liam.” He starts walking toward his bedroom.

“If that’s true, then why do you end every conversation by running away?” Liam says with a bit of anger in his voice. He stands up and confronts Harry. “I can’t keep doing this, Harry. This thing where I have to pry whatever you’re not telling us out of you. I stood in almost the exact spot I’m in now, when Niall tried to stab himself in your kitchen. I won’t watch you do the same thing. I love you, Harry. We almost lost both of you over there and I’m not going to lose you now that we’re home.  So, whether you talk to me or you talk to a therapist or whoever, I don’t care, but you need to do it.” Liam breathes in looking at Harry. “And don’t you dare tell me that you don’t need anything, because what’s going on with you right now, is not you. But I can’t make you do anything, none of us can. You have to make that decision for yourself.”

Liam goes over and puts the bag of prescriptions on the counter. “He’s been good about taking these and he knows when to take what. I think that maybe he actually wants to get better.” Liam walks over to the front door. “Lou should be back in a bit with some groceries. I’ll be at the pub.” Liam walks out the front door.  

 

+++

 

“Harry, can we talk a minute?” Niall says walking out to the kitchen from the back room. He’s been sleeping for the better part of two days. Louis stuck around for a while the day before to make sure that Niall ate something and took his meds.  Liam stopped by in the morning to do the same and he ignored Harry the entire time he was there.

“Why?” Harry asks, he’s been trying to tidy up the kitchen over the last couple days to keep his mind focused on something else other than the other man living in his house.

“I just think we should,” Niall says absentmindedly picking at something on the counter.

“I don’t really have time to just chat, Niall. I’ve got stuff to do, and since I have tonight off, I want to actually get something done around here.”

“I just think we should talk about you and me…”

Harry stops and turns toward Niall. “You and me? That’s fucking hilarious.”

“I’m trying here, Harry,” Niall says quietly. “I’d appreciate if you’d just talk to me for a moment at least.”

“You’ve had plenty of moments, Niall,” Harry replies. “You had plenty of moments back when I might’ve given a shit about anything you had to say. But I don’t care anymore.” Harry looks directly in Niall’s eyes. “You’ve made it pretty clear that you hate me and want nothing to do with me, so why don’t we just stick to that.” Harry throws his dish rag on the counter and walks pass Niall toward the living room.

“I was angry, I’ve treated you like shit, I know that, but I don’t want to lose this,” Niall says in a sad tone. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Harry turns and looks at Niall like he’s just been slapped across the face. “What right do you have to say that to me,” Harry growls. “I thought you were dead for days after Louis called here and told me that something happened to you. You’ve done nothing but yell at me and you’ve made it pretty clear that this is all my fault so just stop.

“You want to stand here and try to figure out if there’s anything left between us and I can answer that for you right here and now, because the answer is no, there’s absolutely nothing here.  You crawled into a pit of anger and guilt when you got back here. You dug yourself so deep, you hated all of us so much that you have nothing left, Niall. And me? Fuck, I’ve been beaten, and spit at and I’ve gotten into fights and I’ve hurt people and the only thing you and me could possibly have in common, is that we have nothing. We are nothing.

“So, just stop. You don’t get a moment of my time anymore.” Harry tries to swallow the lump forming in his throat, he tries to keep the tears from leaving his eyes. It all feels hopeless. It is all hopeless.

He looks at Niall and he can’t see the vulnerability anymore. He just sees months of anger and rage, and Harry can’t see pass it.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Niall says. It comes out choked and soft. He knows he hurt Harry, but he probably doesn’t understand how badly he hurt him.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Niall. You just have to forget about me.” Harry turns and grabs his jacket from where he threw it over the back of the couch.

“Where are you going?” Niall asks in a pleading tone.

Harry puts his jacket on and glances over his shoulder at Niall. “Stop caring about me, Niall. I’ve gotten used to being on my own.”

Harry quickly exits the house. He doesn’t even know where he’s going but he can’t stay in that house.

Niall’s been horrible to him for months, he doesn’t have the right to change his mind. Not now. Not when Harry is done. Even a month without Niall, while he was in the hospital, the house still had the stain of Niall’s rage covering it.

He walks until he gets to the pub and goes inside.

Dan sees him come in and shakes his head. “Bressie said I’m not allowed to serve you,” Dan says.

Harry leans against the bar and looks at Dan. The bar is busy and there are people standing and sitting around the tables.

“Just one pint, Dan…” Harry says. “After that just water.”

Dan looks at him for a moment. “One pint,” he says sternly, and Harry gives a quick nod.  Dan pulls the pint and sets it on the bar in front of Harry. “Bressie will be back in a couple hours…don’t make me regret this, yeah?”

Harry pays. “Keep the change.”

He feels like he’s buying Dan’s silence with the extra cash, but he knows that Bressie won’t take it out on Dan if he finds out about Harry having a drink.

He sits at the empty table in the corner where hardly anyone sits since it’s not in view of the bar.  It’s loud in there but Harry tries to drown it out. He tries to drown out Niall’s apology and the look on Niall’s face when he left.

Everything with Niall is too little, too late.

He’s spent months waiting to see if a glimpse of the old Niall would show itself, but Niall just got worse and more aggressive. Harry has since given up on the idea that there is anything good left in Niall.

Maybe it’s all a trick. Niall’s way of pulling Harry in just to push him over the edge.

Harry takes a big gulp of his drink and sets it back down on the table. He hasn’t drank in so long and he’s missed the warmth it sends through his body.

He closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall, while his fingers trace the bottom of his pint glass.

“Thought that was you over here all by yourself.”

The voice sends an unsettling chill down Harry’s spine and his eyes burst open. He’s taken aback when the man sits down next to him, pulling the chair close to Harry.

“Get the fuck away from me,” Harry says in a low tone.

The guy laughs and scratches at his stubble; the rings lined up across his fingers make Harry shudder. He remembers the way they felt…both times they touched his body.

“Don’t be like that,” he says as he sits lazily in his chair.

“You and your friends already beat the shit out of me, you groped me in the toilets, what more do you want from me?”  He feels cornered and the only on his side this time around is that he’s sober. 

“The past is in the past, babe,” he says putting his hand on Harry’s thigh, and Harry’s body freezes. “Besides, you act like you didn’t want it.” He leans forward, crowding Harry’s space until his lips are next to Harry’s ear. “I know how much you loved me touching you like that…my hands all over your body,” he says as his hand creeps further up Harry’s thigh.  “You convinced yourself that you didn’t want it because it didn’t fit with who people think you are, but I know your secret. You just want to be fucked hard and messy like the rest of us.”

He moves away from Harry but keeps his hand on Harry’s thigh.

Harry sits there for a moment, staring at the table in front of him before he turns to face him. “Get the fuck away from me.” Harry grabs the guy’s wrist as hard as he can and pulls him in. “You fucking touch me again and I’ll break your fucking fingers before I smash your head in so hard that you forget your own fucking name.”

Harry goes back to his drink but it’s not until the guy gets up and walks away that he feels like he can breathe again.

He doesn’t let his eyes wonder as he sits there drinking his pint. He doesn’t want to know if the man’s eyes are still on him.

Dan comes by not too long after and sets a glass of water on the table in front of Harry.

“You alright, mate?” Dan asks looking at Harry curiously.

Harry nods. “’m fine. Just thinkin’,” Harry lies.

“Let me know if you need something, yeah?”

“Of course,” Harry says taking a sip of his drink and he watches as Dan disappears back behind the bar.

Harry sits there a while longer, getting through three-quarters of his pint before he has to set it down. He doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t drank in a while or if he drank it too fast that he can already feel it going to his head.

He almost wants to go over and ask Dan if he put something a little stronger than beer into his drink, but since he hardly got a pint out of him, he finds that unlikely.

Harry pushes the pint aside and takes the glass of water instead, like somehow that will counteract what’s going on in his head. 

The anxiety rolls through his body.  He feels an unsettling wave of nausea boil in his stomach. 

Harry slams the glass of water on the table and pushes away from the table.  He staggers, trying to find his footing as he makes his way to the bathrooms.

A hand catches his elbow, just as he gets to the door and the guy, with his rings, and his beard and his smile, pushes Harry into the bathroom and locks the door behind them.

“Get away from me,” Harry says trying to find his balance.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” the man says.  “You could’ve made this easier on yourself. I mean, I really didn’t want to take it to this level.” He starts undoing his own belt. “Actually had my eye on some other little sweetheart, but then I saw you walk in and I just had to take my chance.”

Harry’s back is against the wall. His vision goes in and out of clarity and the panic in is body is running rapid.  “Please don’t do this,” Harry slurs out, putting his hand out to keep him from getting any closer.

He grabs Harry’s arm and twists him around, slamming his face against the wall.  “You’ll be begging me for it before the end,” the guy sneers into Harry’s ear.  He starts yanking Harry’s jeans and pants down over his ass. 

“S-stop,” Harry stutters.  He can feel the cold of the wall against his cheek and he tries to focus on anything but the hands on his body…the fingers violating him. He wants to move but his muscles won’t respond. He wants to scream but all that comes out is a whimper and the guy pants in his ear, slamming into him over and over until Harry can’t feel anything anymore. It’s void and colder than the British winter.

When he’s finished, he laughs, pulls up Harry’s pants and lets him fall to the floor.

He kneels down and softly cups Harry’s face with his hand.  “Hope you enjoyed that,” he says gently before he grabs Harry by the neck. “If you ever tell anyone about this,” he sneers. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

He digs his fingers into the skin of Harry’s neck before he finally let’s go.  The guy leaves the bathroom and goes back out into the pub.

Harry can’t move. He closes his eyes any hopes that he’ll wake up somewhere else. Somewhere where the floor and walls don’t chill him to the bone. Somewhere where he could forget everything and feel nothing.

He hopes he’ll forget it all by morning. He’ll feel the pain and see the bruises but maybe he won’t remember any of it. Maybe he’ll forget the words and the other body against him. Maybe he’ll forget how to eat and breathe, and he’ll finally be done with all of it.

Sleep is like nothing. A moment of awareness before someone is kneeling in front of him, shaking his shoulder, saying his name.

“Harry? C’mon, lad,” Dan’s voice comes through. “Harry?” Dan’s eyes look worried when Harry sees him, blurred and fogging through heavy eyes. “You stay right here, I’m gonna get Bressie, alright?”  Dan gets up and goes back out to the bar.

Moments later, Bressie walks into the bathroom with Dan behind him, and he kneels down by Harry. “Harry? Can you hear me? Harry?” Bressie turns to look at Dan. “I thought I told you not to serve him?” Bressie says angrily.

“It was one beer,” Dan defends himself. “I only gave him water after that. I thought he went home and then one of the lads at the bar said that someone was passed out on the floor of the bathroom.”

Bressie’s attention goes back to Harry. “Harry?” He gives Harry a light tap on the cheek trying to get him to wake up.

Harry opens his eyes a little more.

“There he is.” Bressie smiles. “You alright? You want to try gettin’ up?”

Harry blinks, trying to see through the fog and he nods his head.

“Alright,” Bressie says and he grabs Harry under his arms to help him to his feet.

Harry wavers a little and Bressie puts a hand out to steady him. Harry can feel the stiffness in his muscles, pain in his body and his hands start to shake as his breathing stutters.

“Harry?” Bressie says, trying to get Harry to look at him and when he does finally look up, Harry falls forward, wrapping his arms around Bressie, before he starts to cry. “It’s alright, lad,” Bressie says softly, putting his arms around Harry and letting him soak his shirt with tears. “It’s alright.” Bressie holds onto Harry, mostly because he’s the only thing keeps Harry from collapsing. “Dan, can you clear out the pub, please?” Bressie asks.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Dan says softly before he goes out to the bar. They hear Dan yell that they’re closing early and there are grumbles and some people yell back at him. 

“No reason for them to see this,” Bressie mutters rubbing Harry’s back.

Dan comes back a couple minutes later. “Everyone’s cleared out, Josh is shutting down the kitchen.”

“Alright...” Bressie looks down at Harry. “You okay to get up to the flat?”

Harry nods, but he doesn’t feel like he can move.  Bressie pulls away, but catches Harry almost immediately. “Guess not…alright, Dan can you get the door?” Bressie says as he puts Harry’s arm over his shoulder and scoops him up, cradling him in his arms, with Harry’s head resting on his shoulder.

Dan holds the bathroom door open for them and follows them out. “Should I call Niall, let him know Harry’s here?” Dan asks.

“No,” Bressie adjusts his grip on Harry. “Niall won’t give a shit. Call Nick and if he doesn’t answer call one of the lads, their numbers are by the bar phone.”

“Okay.” Dan goes over to use the bar phone, as Bressie carefully carries Harry upstairs to his flat and gently sets him down on the extra bed.

“Get some sleep, lad,” Bressie says quietly before he goes back down to the pub.

Harry curls into himself and cries until he finally drifts off.

 

 

“I thought we agreed that him drinking was a bad idea!” Nick yells, but tries to keep his voice down, so it’s more of an angry whisper.

“We did. Dan said he gave him one beer and that was it,” Bressie replies in a hushed tone.

“And you believe him?”

“Why would he lie?”

“I don’t get it,” Nick says with a sigh. “He was doing so well. I mean yeah, the whole Niall situation hasn’t been good but at least he wasn’t drinking.”

“Yeah, because the silence and the bags under his eyes was such a nice change of pace to that,” Bressie says rolling his eyes.  “He’s not doing well, he never was. He just changed up his way of dealing with it.”

“What were we supposed to do, Brez? One’s more stubborn than the other.”

“Have you seen his neck, Grimmy?” Bressie says gesturing toward where Harry lies in the extra bed. “Again, with the bruises.”

“What are you trying to say? You think he’s got himself a new boyfriend that’s into something weird or something?”

“I’m going with ‘or something’,” Bressie snaps back. “We shouldn’t’ve let him stay in this town. It wasn’t safe for them to be here before, but now it’s only getting worse.”

“How do we know it wasn’t Niall?” Nick says. “He’s gotten violent before.”

Bressie sits down at the kitchen table and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“We’ll just have to wait for him to wake up…see what he says about it,” Nick says and sits in the chair across from Bressie.

“You really think he’s going to tell us anything?”

“No…but here’s to wishful thinking, yeah?”

 

Harry waits to get up until he thinks that Nick and Bressie aren’t paying attention.  He feels sluggish and hungover and he tries to ignore the pain that shoots through him when he sits up. He grabs his boots and carefully puts them on before he peeks out from the curtain. Nick’s looking in the refrigerator and since the bathroom door is closed, he figures that Bressie is otherwise preoccupied.

Harry starts walking toward the door.

“You really think it’s going to be that easy to just sneak off?” Nick says, and Harry turns around to see the disappointed look on Nick’s face.

“’m fine. I just want to go home,” Harry says quietly.

“You can’t just leave, Harry…at least talk to me. Explain to me what happened last night.”

Bressie comes out of the bathroom and looks from Nick to Harry.

“We won’t be mad, you just need to talk to us,” Nick urges.

Harry looks from Bressie to Nick. “It wasn’t Dan’s fault.  I brought stuff in with me…I got wasted and fell asleep in the bathroom.”

“Harry, I didn’t smell anything on your breath when I found you,” Bressie says, catching Harry’s lie.

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know what else to tell you. You wanted an answer, so I gave you one.” Harry turns and reaches for the door.

“Harry, if you took something or if someone slipped you something, you need to tell me,” Bressie says and Harry can hear the crack in his voice.

Harry’s hand pauses on the doorknob and he stares at it, thinking that maybe he should turn around. That maybe he should tell them everything, but he tries to imagine telling them and the images of last night roll across his eyes and he can’t do it. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them what happened to him.

“Stop trying to take care of me,” Harry says quietly. “It’ll make this a lot easier for all of us.” Harry yanks the door open and hears Bressie and Nick call out for him, but he doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking, ignoring the aching in his head and body.

He doesn’t stop. Not even when he gets back home.

Niall stands up from the couch the moment Harry gets inside.

“Harry, what’s wrong,” Niall says the moment he sees Harry’s face, but Harry walks pass him and slams the bedroom door in Niall’s face, and locks it. “Harry? Are you alright? Harry, please just talk to me…” Niall says through the door.  

Harry goes into the bathroom and starts the shower. He rips his clothes off and gets in under the scorching water.  He can’t hear Niall anymore or maybe Niall gave up on trying to talk to him.

Harry crawls into bed afterward. He hates sleeping in the bed, but he hopes that it will swallow him up. Bury him so deep that he’ll suffocate or disappear altogether.

There’s a knock at the front door about twenty minutes later and he hears Niall answer the door.

“Where is he?” Bressie asks quickly.

“He’s locked himself in the bedroom,” Niall says. “What the—”

“What did you do?” Bressie snaps.

“What did I do?” Niall repeats. “I told him I wanted to talk to him last night, he got upset, then he went on about us having nothing or being nothing or whatever and he left. I went after him, but—”

“Did you hit him or grab him or anything?” Bressie spits out.

“I didn’t touch him, Brez,” Niall says calmly. “What’s going on?”

“He passed out in the bathroom of the pub last night,” Nick says.  “He claims that he got wasted of his own accord.”

“There’s no alcohol in the house,” Niall says.  “Harry made sure of it. Got pissed at me when he found a bottle of jack under my bed.”

Bressie goes over and knocks on the door. “Harry, c’mon, mate. If you’ve been listening you know that we aren’t buying your story, mate. You gotta talk to us.”

Harry breathes out slowly, the heat lingering around his face from the blanket covering his head. “Just go away.”

“Harry…” Bressie says with a sigh.  “If something happened, you have to tell us…tell someone.”

“Nothing happened,” Harry says. He tries to keep himself from crying. He’s so tired of crying.

“If nothing happened than why can’t you talk to us?” Bressie says.

Harry just wants them to go away. He wants them to just pretend like everything’s fine.

“Brez, give him a break,” Niall says softly. “If you keep pushing him, it’s just going to make things worse. He can talk to us when he wants to, until then, I think it’s a good idea to leave him alone for a little while.”

“Fine,” Bressie says.

“That goes for you too, Grimmy,” Niall says to Nick.

Bressie and Nick are less than pleased to leave the house. The worry on their faces isn’t hidden in the slightest. Whatever happened to Harry the night before wasn’t good.

Niall wants to try his luck with Harry after they leave, but decides against it. Instead, he goes back into his bedroom, finding something quiet to pass the time.

He still wants to talk to Harry, and he worries that the reason Harry is acting like this is because of Niall trying to talk to him the night before. Harry has every right to be mad at him. He’s been awful to everyone since he got back, but Harry got the brunt of it.

Harry falls asleep and regrets it. The nightmares he had before were crippling at times, but now it just seemed like flashes of darkness and searing pain. Sleep is the only thing that lets him not have to deal with facing his friends, but in sleep he’s facing someone else. The man or maybe himself. In and out of the flashes of hands and walls and slurred pleas.

 

 

“Are we going to talk about what happened the other night?” Bressie asks when he comes out to the bar, while Harry is wiping down the counter.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Harry says quietly.

“You’ve hardly said anything to any of us since that night and I just—”

Harry throws the towel on the counter and turns to Bressie. “I want you and the rest of them to get something straight here,” Harry says harshly. “I don’t need any of you to help me. And I swear to god, that if you try to talk to me about it one more time, I’ll finish the job and burn this bar down myself. So just leave me the fuck alone.” Harry turns and grabs his coat from under the counter and blows pass Bressie.

“Where are you going?” Bressie calls after him.  “Your shift just started.”

“I quit,” Harry says before he exits out the front door and walks down the sidewalk toward home.

Days of constant questions and looks from the other lads and he can’t take it anymore. Them being worried isn’t anywhere on his list of things to deal with. It’s their problem not his and he made it clear that he didn’t want any of their help.

Harry gets home, and Niall looks at him from the couch.

“Thought you were at work?” Niall pulls himself up off the couch.

“I quit,” Harry repeats and he walks further into the house.

“What do you mean, you quit?”

“What do you care?” Harry sneers. “I’ll be out back. If Bressie calls, tell him to fuck off.”

“Harry, it’s freezing out there. What are you doing?” Niall says walking after Harry, who’s already at the back door.

“Leave me alone, Niall.” Harry disappears out the back door.

No sooner does the house phone ring and Niall recognizes the number of the pub on the caller ID.

“He doesn’t want to talk to you, Brez,” Niall says when he answers the phone.

“So, he’s there with you?” Bressie

“He’s out back,” Niall says rubbing the back of his neck.

“Did he say anything?”

“He told me to tell you to fuck off, Brez,” Niall says before he hangs up the phone.

Niall walks down the hallway and looks out the back door where he sees Harry curled up on one of the lawn chairs.  He steps outside, against his better judgement, without a coat on and carefully steps down the couple steps to the ground. He wipes off the other chair and sits down beside Harry.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry says pulling his coat tighter around himself.

“You don’t have to,” Niall replies. “I’m sorry about the other day, Harry. I have no right to ask you for anything after what I’ve put you through this last year.  I know that something happened, but I’m not going to try to force it out of you. You’re allowed to be pissed off. You’re allowed to be upset. But if you do want to talk about it or hit something, I’m here…I just thought you should know that.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment. “You’ll get sick if you stay out here much longer without a coat.”

Niall looks down at the ground and gives a small nod. “Don’t stay out here much longer, yeah?” Niall says before he gets up and starts making his way back up the small concrete steps.

“I won’t be much longer,” Harry says looking at Niall.

Niall gives a small smile and goes back inside the house.

Going back inside makes him realize just how cold he was from sitting out there for only a minute. He fills the kettle and sticks it on the back burner, before he gets two mugs out of the cupboard.

Niall leans against the counter, he feels his heartrate pickup as he stands there waiting for the water to boil and for Harry to come back inside the house.

The back door opens and closes and Niall sighs in relief. There was a piece of him that thought that Harry might just take off without saying anything.

Harry stops when he gets to the kitchen and he looks at Niall.

“I put the kettle on if you want some tea,” Niall says softly, and Harry gives a small nod before he takes off his jacket and disappears into his bedroom for a few minutes and comes back out with an oversized sweatshirt on.

The kettle whistles and Niall pours the water into the mugs.

Harry sits at the counter as Niall makes their tea the way they like it before he slides Harry’s across the counter to him.

Harry wraps his hands around the warm mug and looks at a moment before his eyes catch Niall.

“I could never hit you,” Harry says quietly.

Niall gives him a confused expression.

“Before you said that if I needed to talk or hit something, that you were here…but I could never hit you. Niall.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Niall says. His eyes staying fixed on the mug in his hands. “I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry replies in a soft tone. “Nobody deserves that.”

Niall looks up at Harry, who gives a soft smile.

It’s been so long since Harry smiled in general let alone at Niall.

Harry stands up and takes his mug with him when there’s a loud knock at that door that make Harry jump and drop his mug letting it shatter on the ground.

His breathing picks up and Niall is there in an instant. “You alright?” Niall says looking at Harry’s shaking hands.

Harry nods and the knock comes again, making his breath pick up even more.

Niall tries to usher Harry toward the bedroom, but Harry jerks away from him, looking angry.

“Harry?”

“Don’t touch me,” Harry yells. He’s confused and the knocking on the door keeps coming and Harry moves around Niall, going into the bedroom, where he slams the door.

Niall hears the lock click and he lets out a sigh before he goes to answer the front door.

Gemma stands on the other side of the screen door and makes a sour face when she sees that Niall is the one that answers the door.

“Where’s Harry?” Gemma asks in a harsh tone.

“Right now’s not a good time, Gem,” Niall says.

Gemma opens the door and blows pass Niall. “I don’t think you’re the one that gets to decide that after the way you’ve treated my brother.” Gemma whirls around, staring daggers at Niall. “I tried to get him to leave you. To leave this stupid fucking house, but you made him feel so guilty that he stayed here getting treated like shit because he thought he deserved it.” Gemma turns around and sees the broken mug and tea splattered across the floor by the counter. “What the hell did you do to him?” Gemma looks back at Niall. “Where the hell is my brother?”

Niall’s eyes go to the closed bedroom door and Gemma follows his gaze.

Gemma goes over and knocks on the door. “Harry?” she says. “Harry, it’s Gemma. Are you alright?”

“Gem, just leave him alone. He’s had a shit day.”

“No thanks to you, I bet,” Gemma bites back and she continues to knock on the door.

Niall goes over to Gemma. “Seriously, I don’t care what you think about me right now, but you need to stop.”

Gemma turns to look at Niall. “Why don’t you do what you do best and fuck off, Niall.” Gemma’s attention goes back to the door and her brother. “Harry!” she slams on the door. “Harry, seriously, get your ass out here. I’m tired of driving all the way out here just for you to hide in your bedroom like a child.” She bangs on the door and Niall grabs her arm to stop her. “What the fuck are you doing?” she says yanking her arm out of Niall’s grip.

“You need to leave, Gemma.”

“Don’t you dare think for a second that I believe that you care about him. I’ve seen the toll that you’ve taken on him. You broke him in the worst way imaginable as someone that supposedly loved him.” Gemma gets in Niall’s face. “I constantly think about him and pray that I don’t get a phone call in the middle of the night telling me that he offed himself because of you.”

“If you cared about him, you’d listen to me,” Niall says.

Gemma shakes her head. “You, Niall Horan,” she says pushing Niall, making him stumble backward. “You are nothing,” she says angrily. Gemma keeps pushing him until Niall’s back hits the front door.  “Nothing you do or say will ever change that in my eyes.” Gemma hits Niall’s shoulder. “Does he have bruises again, huh? Is that why you don’t want me to see him?” She hits him again.

“Stop, Gemma…” Niall says, but Gemma just gets madder.

“Did he ask you to stop, Niall? All the times you ‘accidentally’ hit him or tried to kill him thinking he was the enemy! Did you hit him anyway? Huh?” Gemma keeps smacking him and Niall feels his pulse starts racing and everything starts getting cloudy.

“Please, stop,” Niall chokes out.

“You stupid piece of shit!” Gemma yells at him. “You should’ve just fucking left! You should’ve stayed gone!”

“Gem…” Niall breathes out covering his head with his arms. 

“I fucking hate you Niall Horan!”

The bedroom door opens and Harry has to grab Gemma to keep her from hitting Niall.

“Gemma, stop!” Harry yells.

“He ruined everything!” Gemma says lunging at Niall, but she accidentally hits Harry who recoils, dropping his grip on her.

Harry stays bent over, and Niall can see the bloody saliva coming out of his mouth and the way his back and shoulders move with his accelerated breathing.

“Harry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Gemma says. She puts her hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry grabs her arm and twists it, making Gemma scream.

“Harry!” Niall calls out.

Harry hits Gemma across the face, knocking her to the ground.  He steps forward to go after her, but Niall tackles Harry to the ground.

“Harry, stop,” Niall mutters, throwing his entire body on top of Harry, overly aware of his prosthesis and the way the knee of it hits the floor. “Harry, it’s Gemma! It’s your sister! You don’t want to do this.”

Harry fights against Niall, until he starts to come back around. Niall watches as Harry’s face goes from confusion to fear, when he sees Gemma sitting on the floor with her hand on her face.

“What did I do?” Harry breathes out.

“Harry, it’s alright. You didn’t mean to,” Niall says rolling himself off Harry and sitting on the floor.  Niall rolls up his pantleg to check his prosthetic.

Harry sits up a little ways, looking from Niall to Gemma. “Gem, ‘m sorry…”

Gemma looks hurt and terrified, which makes Harry feel worse. He feels his pulse pick up again and he gets to his feet and goes back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Niall pulls himself up using the back of the couch. He looks down at Gemma. “Are you alright?” he asks.

Gemma nods and Niall can see the red mark on her face from where Harry hit her. “I didn’t mean to hit him,” she says with a bit of shakiness to her voice.

“He was already on edge,” Niall says trying to make her feel better. Red and blue lights come through the front window and Niall looks out to see a police car pulling up to the house. “Fucking neighbors around here really like calling the cops.”

“Cops?” Gemma questions getting to her feet and looking out the window with Niall.  Gemma looks at Niall with a worried expression.

Niall looks at the two officers as they walk up the sidewalk. “Well, luck may be on our side today,” he says when he gets a better look at the cops.

“We got a call about a domestic disturbance,” the one officer says as soon as Niall opens the door.

“Jaysus Christ, Niall,” Eoghan says from behind the other officer when he recognizes Niall.

Niall pushes open the screen door and lets both of them in.

The other officer starts snooping around the living room, looking at the broken pieces of the mug on the floor.

“Where’s Harry?” Eoghan asks looking between Gemma and Niall.

“He’s in the bedroom,” Niall says gesturing toward the closed bedroom door.

“Get him out here,” the other officer says with a stern voice.

Niall looks at Eoghan. “No one’s hurt, Eoghan, it was a misunderstanding.”

“I’m sorry, Niall. With domestic disturbances we have to talk with everyone in the house.”

“He’s on edge right now…I don’t want to upset him even more.”

The other officer goes over, without wasting time and knocks loudly on the bedroom door.  “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to come out of the room!”

“Jesus Christ,” Niall mutters. He turns to Eoghan. “Let me talk to him first. Make sure he’s calmed down. You served, you know how this can be.”

Eoghan thinks about it for a moment. “Sagan,” he says to the other officer, who looks him. “Give him a second.”

“McDermott, don’t let your friendship with—”

“Fuck, off, Sagan,” Eoghan says. “These lads served, just give ‘em a moment.”

Officer Sagan backs off and Niall goes to the door. The last person he imagined seeing at the house, let alone in a police uniform was Eoghan McDermott, but he’s thankful for it nonetheless.

He gives a light knock. “Harry, it’s me. I’m comin’ in, alright?” Niall waits a moment before he opens the door, slightly shocked that it was unlocked that whole time.

Harry’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, with his head in his hands.

Niall goes over and leans against the wall as he slides down to the floor beside him. “Gemma’s fine,” Niall says. “Everybody’s whole…well,” Niall looks down at his leg. “No less whole than usual.”

Harry lifts his head and gives Niall a look.

“You always loved shitty jokes,” Niall says with a laugh. He lets out a long breath and looks over at Harry. “We just have to clear things up these officers and then we can call it a day.”

Harry gives a slight nod and he gets up and puts his hand out for Niall to take, so he can help him up off the floor.

They sit on the couch and tell Eoghan and Officer Sagan about how they were joking around and ended up falling over one another, and Harry got hit in the process and blacked out for a moment.

Eoghan seems to know better, and Officer Sagan questions them on every little detail, but he buys the story in the end.

After they leave, Niall starts cleaning up the broken mug and spilled tea, while Harry and Gemma talk in the other room.

Harry never explained what could and has happened to them because of being in Afghanistan. How sometimes, the lines blur between something that happened there and what’s happening here at home. 

Gemma leaves about an hour later. She doesn’t say anything to Niall and even though she knew what happened wasn’t his fault, as far as she was concerned, he still treated her baby brother like shit for the last year.  He doesn’t blame her either, her anger is justified.

Harry goes to bed early and Niall stays up a while longer before he finally goes to his room.

+++

 

Bressie shows up a couple days later while Niall and Harry were sitting at the counter eating their breakfast in utter silence.

Bressie slides a business card across the counter to Harry. “This is the woman I went to see when I got back. Dr. Lauer. She doesn’t charge for the first session, so if you don’t like her there’s no commitment. I’m not just saying this because of what you said the other day, because Harry, this has been a long time coming. Between what happened to you over there and what’s happened to you since you’ve been home...you won’t talk to any of us and we care about you. I’m not looking to replace you at the pub, so if you want to come back you can but only if you start talking to someone about all the stuff you don’t want to tell us.” Bressie looks up at Niall who’s standing off to the side by the door. “She’s expecting your call, so just give it a shot, yeah?”  Bressie puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder before he walks over to the door.

“Thank you,” Niall says to Bressie in a low tone so that Harry doesn’t hear him. 

Bressie gives a quick nod. “Just try to get him to go, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Niall says looking over at Harry. “He deserves to be happy.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Bressie says, reaching for the door. “I’ll see you lads later.”

Niall closes the door behind Bressie and goes back over to sit at the counter with Harry.

“Ultimatum after ultimatum,” Harry mutters.

“What do you mean?” Niall says looking at Harry curiously.

“Stop drinking or don’t come back to work. Heal up before you get back to work. See a fucking shrink or don’t come back to the job you quit in the first place.” Harry gets up and puts his empty bowl in the sink. “Every fucking time I do something that he doesn’t approve of, he decides to weasel his way in and turn me back around so that I’m marching back to work with a fucking smile painted across my face.” Harry picks up the business card and tosses it in the garbage. “If he comes back just tell him to go fuck himself.” Harry goes into his bedroom and slams the door shut behind him, making Niall jump.

He hates hearing Harry talk like that. Mostly because it reminds Niall of how he used be. When Niall was angry at the world and took it out on Harry and the other people around him.

Niall knows that Harry hasn’t slept in a few days, even if he didn’t have dark bags under his eyes, Niall’s been waking up in the middle of the night to the sounds of Harry moving around the house.

He started moving furniture around and taking down pictures from the walls.  He’ll be quiet for a while then start cleaning the house or rearranging rooms.

A few days later, Niall watches from the couch as Harry takes everything out of the refrigerator to wipe out the inside.

“I have a session with Dr. Holt this afternoon,” Niall say quietly.

Harry hums in response not really paying Niall much attention.

“The thing is…Bressie can’t take me so I have to get a cab and…” Niall looks at Harry for a moment. “I don’t really want to go by myself.”

Harry hums again but doesn’t look at Niall.

“I was hoping you’d go with me,” Niall continues.

Harry stops and turns to face Niall. “You know I don’t like hospitals…”

“Yeah, and you know I don’t care for them either.”

“I don’t really think it’s a good idea, Niall.” Harry turns his attention back to the fridge.

“I get it,” Niall submits and turns back toward the TV.

Harry pauses a moment and thinks about it.  “How long will it take?”

Niall smiles a little. “The session lasts for an hour. You don’t have to stay the whole time in the waiting room, I just…the cab ride and the cramped lift make me a little uneasy.”

Harry thinks about it for a moment.  “Yeah, okay…I can go.”  He puts his attention back to clearing the refrigerator shelves. 

The thought of leaving the house almost paralyzes Harry. He tries to stay at the house as often as possible. He feels the safest there.  Things with Niall have been different since Niall got home from the hospital. Niall’s been calm and kind; a much closer resemblance to the old Niall than how he’s been for a last year.

Harry still doesn’t totally trust him. The weight and anger that Niall scarred into Harry is still there. He feels like, at any moment, it’s going to come back out again.  Niall is like the clothes Harry has thrown away after bad experiences. Every time Harry looks at Niall, he doesn’t think of the good times or the recently better times, he just thinks of all the bad times. All the times that Niall screamed at him, attacked him, blamed him, or ignored him. 

They don’t have long conversations. It’s mostly small stuff. But the idea of being with Niall in cramped spaces like the back of a cab or the elevator, seemed daunting.

Harry gets the refrigerator cleaned out and put back together and Niall calls for a taxi.  Harry gets changed and Niall goes to grab his journal and whatnot for his session while they wait for the cab to show up.

Harry’s thankful that’s it’s only about a half hour drive to the hospital.  He and Niall don’t say anything to each other the whole trip and it’s not until they get to Dr. Holt’s office on the fifth floor that Harry recognizes another name on the door of the adjacent office; Dr. Adrian Lauer.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Harry says gesturing toward the name.

“What are you talking about?” Niall turns and looks at Harry.

Dr. Holt, a middle-aged man with dark, graying hair stands outside his office, perking up when he sees Niall approaching.

“Dr. Lauer, that’s the woman Bressie wanted me to see.” There’s a bit of panic in Harry’s voice as his pulse starts picking up and both Niall and Dr. Holt seem to notice. “Is this some kind of trick? I’m not you, Niall. I-I can’t…I don’t need help. I—”

“Harry, I didn’t know Dr. Lauer was the one that Brez referred you to. You threw away the card before I got a chance to look at it,” Niall replies in an even tone, trying to keep Harry calm.

“I shouldn’t’ve come here,” Harry says looking at Dr. Lauer’s door before he makes a bee-line for the elevators.

“Harry—”

“Text me when you’re done, and we can get a cab back together,” Harry says before he steps into the elevator.

Dr. Holt comes to stand beside Niall, who is staring at the closed elevator. “So, that’s Harry?” he asks.

“Yeah, that’s Harry…” Niall breathes out.

Dr. Holt turns back toward his office. “Come on, looks like we have quite a bit to discuss today.”

Niall follows Dr. Holt into the office, but his mind doesn’t leave the thought of Harry.

 

Niall texts Harry when he gets out of his session and takes the elevator down to meet Harry in the lobby. He’s a little nervous about getting into the elevator by himself but he supposes that his discomfort is better than upsetting Harry again.

He steps out of the lift and sees Harry already sitting in the lobby, staring at the floor.

Niall walks up to him. “I really didn’t know that it was the same woman,” Niall says quietly.

Harry looks up at him, hardly registering Niall before he shrugs and turns away before he stands up.

They get a cab and go back home. Harry is quiet, and Niall starts making lunch as soon as they get back so that he doesn’t have to sit in silence with Harry again.

He can’t stop thinking about the look on Harry’s face at the office, when he thought that Niall betrayed him and lied to him to get Harry to see a therapist.

“Thank you, for coming with me,” Niall says quietly.

Harry looks up at him from where he sits at the counter.  He doesn’t say anything. In his eyes, Niall can still see the doubt in Harry’s mind.

“Would it be so bad?” Niall asks and when Harry cocks his head in confusion he tries to explain what he means. “You’ve been through a lot. I put you through a lot and I know I hated going at the start, but now, I get why people do it.” Niall watches Harry, looking for any sign of the same betrayal he saw in Harry’s eyes earlier. “I managed to get Bressie and Nick to back off for the time being but talking really does help.”

Harry looks down at where his hands rest in his lap. “A year…” Harry mutters.

“What?”

Harry looks up at Niall locking eyes with him and Niall watches as anger clouds over Harry’s gaze. “Almost a year of you berating me and hating me…you try to stab yourself in this very kitchen and you have the gull to tell me that talking to someone really does help?”

“Harry, I—”

“No…” Harry pushes the chair away from the counter and gets up. “I’m not taking advice from the same person that’s the reason I’d need to go to therapy in the first place.” Harry goes over, grabs his coat from the couch, walks to the front door, and yanks it open. “I’m happy that you’ve found some sort of piece with yourself, Niall, I really am…but there are some things that I can’t just say out loud; things that I have to live with.”

“Punishing yourself isn’t going to help, Harry,” Niall replies softly. “Doing that is what had me standing in this kitchen holding a knife to myself and I don’t want that for you.”

Harry closes the door but doesn’t look at Niall. He just stands there with his hand on the doorknob. “What changed?”

“What?”

Harry faces Niall. “You were home for almost a year before you did that…and when you came back here after being at the hospital for a month, you were different.  What changed?”

Niall peers down at the floor, at the spot where there used to be a pool of his blood. “I blamed you,” Niall says quietly. “I’d convinced myself that you were there in Afghanistan with us when the car bomb went off…I remembered seeing you standing over me, looking down at me…I thought I was going to die. I begged you to help me and you just walked away. I thought you left me there to die.”  Niall leans against the counter. “None of the doctors or shrinks knew any better. Then I got transferred to St. Leo’s after Germany and everyone that I saw just told me to forgive you. That you were probably just scared, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw your face. Hundreds of different situations, some real, some made up, but the dreams always ended the same. I’d beg you to stay and you’d leave me there to die. Sometimes you’d even kill me yourself. By the time you showed up, you’d become the face…the embodiment of my nightmares. Then to find out that Louis and Liam were still friends with you and Bressie gave you my job at the pub. I felt betrayed that they weren’t pissed at you for what I thought you did.

“When Liam and Louis told me that you weren’t there…at first, I thought they were lying to protect you, but then it was like it clicked finally…the one thing that didn’t make sense; the hole in me that I’d been feeling ever since the day I lost my leg, it was you. And then I thought about how I’d done nothing but destroy you since I got back. How empty you seemed…and I realized that I’d become to you, what I thought you were to me…I mean, that’s what I wanted at first. I wanted you to hurt as much as I did, but I know that was a mistake, Harry.  I know that I can never apologize enough for what I did to you. But I am sorry.”

Harry stares at Niall. Shocked more than anything. There’s a piece of him that feels bad for Niall, but there’s a bigger part of him that still hates Niall. If Niall had just talked to any of them when he got back home, none of this would’ve happened. They could have cleared this up months ago.

“I understand if you hate me, Harry. I won’t blame you if you do. But—”

“You’re right,” Harry says in a calm tone. He walks up to Niall, standing only a foot or so in front of him, staring him down. “I do hate you. And the sad part is that I don’t know which one of us I wish had died over there.”

“Harry…”

“I’ll think about going to see that therapist,” Harry says next. “Not for me, but for you. Because if I don’t figure out a way to forgive you…I might kill you, Niall.”

Niall’s heart plummets in his chest as Harry stares at him.

Harry backs away and goes back toward the door.  “I’m going to take a few days…I’ll stay at the Inn in town, because I don’t think I can be around anyone right now. I’ll come back tomorrow before my shift to get some things, but I don’t want you to be here.”

Harry exits out the front door, slamming it, making Niall jump.

 

+++

 

There’s relentless knocking at Harry’s door at eleven o’clock in the morning and he groans, sitting up from where he fell asleep curled up on the floor of the small room he’s been staying in at the Inn.

He looks through the peephole and sees Liam standing in the hallway. He seems sad when Harry opens the door.

“Niall said you’d be here,” Liam says quietly.

“I also told Niall I wanted to be alone,” Harry retorts.

“He said he told you about why he was so mad at you and—”

“Mad?” Harry laughs. “I slept with my door locked at night because I thought he might try to kill me in my sleep.” Harry stands in the doorway, not letting Liam in the room. “Mad doesn’t even remotely cover what he did.”

“I know…I just…”

“It’s not your fault, Liam,” Harry says in a softer tone. “It’s not even entirely Niall’s fault what’s wrong with me.”

Liam’s guessed for a while now that something happened that Harry wasn’t talking about, but now he really sees it in Harry’s eyes. “Haz, I’m scared for you.  I wasn’t lying when I said that I don’t want to lose you, but looking at you now, I feel like we’ve already lost you and I…I can’t leave here thinking that I might never see you again. You mean too much to me.” Liam gaze is soft. “I’ve had nightmares about going to your funeral and I can’t do that in real life. You can’t do that to me.”

Harry looks down at the floor then back up at Liam. “It’s not really up to me and I can’t promise you that I won’t do it to you.”

“Harry, please don’t—”

“I actually have an appointment to get to,” Harry says changing the subject. He leaves the door open and grabs his jacket, phone, and wallet.

“No, you can’t say something like that to me and just leave,” Liam protests.

“Then forget I ever said it,” Harry says walking pass Liam and closing the door behind him.

Liam’s on his heels as he walks down the hallway.  “Harry, for god’s sake, you need to go to a hospital or see a counselor or something. I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

“I just want to be left alone, Liam,” Harry says.

Liam stops and watches Harry continue on down the hallway before he says something. “What happened to you while we were gone?”

Harry stops dead in his tracks and closes his eyes. “What happened to me is what happens to everyone in this town. I got stuck here and I gave up.”  Harry disappears down the hallway leaving Liam there.

He’s tired of them coming after him. He’s tired of them trying to help with something they can’t fix. Every time he thinks it’s the time, he knows they’ll come looking for him. He knows they’ll try to talk him down. So, maybe the only way to really do it would be to finally push them all so far away that they won’t try to find him.

That path will take more effort than Harry has in him and to be honest, his friends are all stubborn assholes and even hating him won’t keep them away.

Though, he had about an hour maybe two before the next one came looking for him. Liam had already talked to Niall, which means that next might be Nick, then Louis, and Bressie, and as a last resort, Anne and Gemma.

Maybe he’ll make a run for it instead.

Harry lied about having an appointment, so he really didn’t have anywhere to go, but the best place to avoid his friends might be right under their noses, so he goes to the bank.

He has enough saved up that he will be able to afford meager living spaces until he can find a place far far away from this town and these people. His phone rings while he’s waiting, but he doesn’t answer it. He doesn’t even know where he’ll go. London? Paris? Amsterdam? The possibilities are endless when you don’t care about where you’ll end up.

He empties his bank account and heads out the door, thankful that Louis had the day off, so he didn’t have sneak pass him. But maybe there is a piece of him that wishes that Louis was there.

He pulls his phone out and sees a voicemail from his mum. The lads got around to her faster than he expected.

He stands there, with the phone to his ear, when Anne’s shaky voice comes through.

_“Harry? Please pick up, Sweetheart. Niall’s just called and he’s made me very worried about you. I love you so much, Sweetheart. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I just need you to know that I’m here for you, always, and I’ll be there tomorrow. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to but we can go out for the day or stay in watching movies like we did when you were little. But until I get there, I want you to go stay with Nick, alright? He’s already expecting you and he’s promised not to ask you any questions, but I just need you not to be alone right now, Sweetheart. I love you so much. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? I love you, Harry. So, so, much.”_

Harry takes the phone away from his ear.  His eyes sting and the tears almost freeze instantly in the cold.

He calls for a cab next and he waits out at the corner, pulling his coat tight around him, burring his face in his scarf.  It got so cold so fast. He misses the green trees and the slight warmth in the air, but this cold was becoming bitter and relentless, making him that much more thankful when the cab finally shows up.

He wishes that the cab ride took longer. In all the prior times that he came to this place, it felt like it took forever, but now, when he needs more time to wrap his head around the situation, he gets there in what feels like no time at all.

The ride up to the fifth floor seems daunting and he hopes that the elevator will get sucked into a blackhole and he’ll cease to exist on this spectrum of reality.

He walks out of the lift toward the waiting area and he’s not totally sure what to do. He can’t help but notice the clouded skies outside the window.

“Can I help you?” a female voice says from behind him, making Harry just slightly.

“I’m uh…I need to…” Harry trips over the words.

“You look like you need to have an appointment,” the woman says lightly with a smile. “And you might be just in luck, because I had someone cancel on me this morning. I’m Dr. Lauer.”

“Harry Styles…”

Something sparks in her eyes. “Your Mr. Breslin’s mysterious friend. I was hoping I’d get to meet you one day.” She extends her hand and Harry shakes it. She moves out of the way and gestures toward the open office and follows Harry into the room, before she closes the door. “And just so you’re aware, your first session with me is free, so if you don’t think we are a good fit, then I can refer you to one of my colleagues or someone out of the office as well. It’s all completely up to you.”

The office is rather nice. There are bookshelves lining the one wall, filled with older and newer books, some psychology related, and others are novels; _Moby Dick_ , _Frankenstein_ …American classics, British classics.

“Do you read?” Dr. Lauer asks as she gets a pad of paper from her desk, noticing Harry ogling her bookshelves.

“Used to,” Harry replies absentmindedly.

“Well, if you see anything that you fancy, feel free to borrow it.” She comes around and sits in a chair on the opposite side of the bookshelves.

There are green leafy plants on either side of her and others that scatter the large windowsill, which looks out over the park next door.

She gestures to the couch across from where she sits, and Harry reluctantly takes a seat.

“So, what brings you here, Mr. Styles?” She crosses her leg over the other and gives him her full attention.  Her soft gaze puts him on edge. He’s used to his friends trying to pry things out of him and ultimately getting upset at him, not that it was their fault entirely.

He looks down to avoid seeing the change in her eyes. 

“Alright, if you don’t want to start there we don’t have to,” she says calmly. “Maybe just tell me a little about yourself. Where you work? What you like to do for fun. That sort of thing.”

“I quit my job,” Harry says in a low tone.

“Ah, may I ask why?”

Harry looks over toward the window. “Difference of opinion.”

“Alright, well what do you like to do for fun?” she asks instead.

Harry thinks of all the unused photography equipment in the back room. Stuff he hasn’t touched in over a year.

He has no job and no hobbies, and all that keeps racing through his mind is the bathroom at the pub, the bloodstain on the kitchen floor, almost bleeding to death in the back of a Humvee, almost dying in an alleyway, the smell of Chinese food.

Harry stands and walks over to the window, looking out over the park below. The trees have lost their leaves and everyone is wearing thick coats and scarves, with wool hats hanging just above their eyes.

“This is a great view,” Harry says. Within the grey clouds, tiny spaces of blue peek through, but the day within itself is bleak.

“Mr. Styles, I—”

“When we came back from what was supposed to be our last tour, I thought that was it. We’d get to start living our lives, but things were too different. Everything seemed misplaced or unrecognizable as the real thing.” Harry pauses. “We were supposed to paint the house, get a dog, get married, adopt kids, go on vacations…he promised me all that when I thought I was going to die over there and he just left anyway. He went back to the war instead of staying with me and figuring things out together.” Harry sees a girl with her mum walking hand-in-hand through the park. “Everything fell apart after he left and I can’t even blame him,” Harry says turning around. “I let things fall apart. I let people do things to me. I let them take everything, because I didn’t want to do this without him.”

“You still loved him,” Dr. Lauer says, looking at Harry curiously.

Harry shakes his head and turns back toward the window, but that’s all the answer Dr. Lauer needs to her question.

“I’ve known Niall since I was nine…but when he was wounded, when they said he might die, all I could think about was that he’d never want to see me again even if he did make it.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “And I was right, he hated me when he got back.” Harry breathes in. “There were so many things that I would’ve done differently if he’d been here…so many things that wouldn’t have happened.”

“What wouldn’t have happened?”

God, the bathroom. Harry’s stomach churns just at the thought of it. He closes his eyes and it’s just the feeling of that man’s hands on him, of pushing into him and holding him by the throat. Harry lets out a shaky breath.

It was his fault. He was the one that left the house, that had a drink when he wasn’t supposed to. Harry’s to blame for everything that’s happened to him.

“I’ve almost died twice in my life. Once when I got shot in Afghanistan and once when I was jumped while I was walking home late at night.” The clouds pull closer together blocking out the little bit of light that was peeking through. “The first time, I didn’t want to die and the second, I didn’t want to die where I was. I wanted to get back and die in the comfort of my own house.”

“But you didn’t, so that must mean something,” Dr. Lauer interjects.

Harry turns and looks at her for a moment before he replies. “I accidently called a friend before I passed out on the floor behind my couch.” He goes over and looks at the books on the shelves. “We actually got in a fight about him saving me.”

“Why do you think you were so upset with him about saving you?” She uncrosses her legs and leans her elbow on the armrest of the chair.

Harry lets out a breathy laugh; it’s involuntary, but he knows exactly what the answer is to that question.

“I’ve almost died twice, but…that number doesn’t come close to the amount of times I wished I was dead.” Harry breathes out walking back around to sit on the couch. He doesn’t know why he’s here. “It always happens after the fact. I didn’t want to die when I got shot, but later on, I wished I had. There were times when people did things to me and I was too weak or too drunk to fight back. I remember wishing that they would’ve just killed me instead. Snapped my neck, stabbed me, slit my throat…I didn’t care. I’d lost everything. My friends were fighting in a war, my mum and sister moved away, the love of my life left me, people shot me, beat me, ra—.” Harry leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “Everyone kept thinking that I was going to try to kill myself and the only thing that kept me from doing it was that I wanted to know if everything worked out in the end. I wanted to see my friends come home and see if I could fix things with Niall.”

“That’s a good way of keeping yourself from doing it,” Dr. Lauer says gently. “I’ve noticed that it’s often the little things that keep people here and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“The thing is…” Harry starts again. “I kept hoping that every time something bad happened to me that I’d die. I kept hoping that I would die so that I didn’t have to do it myself. Like I was too weak to do it myself, so the universe was sending all these people to do it for me, but for whatever reason, I keep surviving, just to go through it all over again…”

Harry stares down at his hands; dry and cracked in the cold air.

“Harry?” Dr. Lauer says trying to get Harry’s attention back.

The tears are already filling his eyes.

“The truth is that I’m tired of waiting for someone else to do it,” Harry says. “I think I’m ready to do it myself.” Harry stares at the floor. The plain white rug that covered the center of the office. There’s a stain, or the remnants of a stain just under the coffee table.

“Harry?”

Harry looks up at Dr. Lauer and sees the concerned look on her face. He takes a deep breath and sniffs, rubbing the tears from his eyes before he stands up. “I should…I should go.” He starts walking toward the door. “Thank you and I’m sorry I wasted your time, I just…”

“Harry, don’t leave, please, come back and we can talk about how you’re feeling,” Dr. Lauer pleads.

“No, it’s fine, really. I’m fine.” Harry opens the door and goes out of the waiting room toward the elevator.

“Harry, please.” Dr. Lauer chases after him. “I can help you. We can figure this out together.”

The elevator doors open just as Harry gets there and an older woman walks out. “I’m sorry…I really am,” Harry says over his shoulder, before he steps inside the lift.

The doors close before Dr. Lauer can get to the elevator.

 

+++

 

Niall sits on the couch trying to stay awake. He’s been up for almost two days straight waiting for Harry to come home or for Harry to return any of his calls.

Niall knows he hurt Harry. He knows, and he doesn’t want to make things worse by badgering Harry, but he also wants to make sure that Harry is alright.

Liam went to talk to him and that’s the only thing that keeps Niall from going to the Inn to talk to Harry himself. He wanted a few days and Niall wants to give him that space.

His back hurts and his eyes are heavy. Sleep wants to take him, but he keeps fighting against it. Slapping himself in the face every time he starts to nod off. He usually drinks decaf coffee and tea because the caffeine messes with his anxiety, which isn’t making matters any better as he’s on his third cup of caffeine today.

Niall rubs his eyes and looks at the clock by the TV. He just wants Harry to come home.

His phone buzzes on the coffee table and Bressie’s name comes up.

Niall sits up and answers it with a sigh, rubbing his face. “Yeah?”

“Niall? Have you seen or heard from Harry?” Bressie’s voice comes out in a quick panic, which makes Niall’s heartrate jump.

“No…I haven’t,” Niall replies. “What’s going on, Brez?”

“He went to see Dr. Lauer and he said some stuff, and she’s worried.  He just took off. She’s already called the police, but she called me hoping that I could find him and—”

“What the hell did he say, Brez?”

Bressie’s silent on the other side of the phone. “She thinks he’s going to kill himself…”

It feels like his heart stopped in his chest.

“If you can think of anywhere he might go or tell us if he comes home…I don’t know what else to do,” Bressie says.  “Liam’s gone to work, and Lou is looking around town. Nick’s calling people…Harry’s phone is going straight to voicemail…I don’t—”

“We’ll find him, Brez,” Niall says. He wants to believe it himself, too, but he doesn’t know if he can.

“Just call if he comes home,” Bressie says. “I’m going keep looking around town.” Bressie hangs up and Niall can feel his heartbeat.

He was on edge before, but now, he doesn’t want to just sit there and wait.

Because he’s either waiting for a call saying that Harry’s alright, waiting for him to walk in the front door, or the call that says they were too late.

Niall gets up from the couch, running his hands through his hair, pulling up at the ends.  He paces back and forth. Until he stops and looks over at the kitchen floor.

There’s the faintest bit of a blood stain in the grout between the tiles. He looks at it a long time, before he’s suddenly grabbing his coat and rushing out the door.

He doesn’t have time to call anyone. Even from in town in a car, he’ll get there before anyone else.

Niall cuts across lawns and through the brush at the edge of the Peterson Farm.

He can see the high ledge of the viaduct before he even gets to the field surrounding it.

His leg hurts.  He’s not used to walking over rocks and through tall grass and uneven ground in it, and his stump hurts. He buries his hands further into his pockets and as soon as he looks up he sees someone or something lying at the base of the viaduct.

“Harry…” he whispers under his breath before he starts across the field as fast as he can.

Niall stops when he’s a few yards away and breathes out a sigh of relief.

Harry’s sitting there, leaning against the brick archway of the viaduct. He vaguely looks up at Niall. The look on his face is vacant and unfeeling. “How’d you know I be here?” Harry asks and it’s barely audible.

“I spent a lot of time in the hospital wishing I was dead,” Niall says. “When I imagined doing it…I imagined it here and I thought it might be the same for you.”

“Figures…”

“What the doctor said…what you said to her…” Niall looks for the right words. “Were you really gonna do it?”

Harry looks at his hands where they dangle with his forearms resting on the tops of his knees. “There was this guy,” he starts to say. “I was out with Nick and I got drunk at the pub and this guy cornered me in the bathroom…he put his hand in my pants. I was able to push him off me and get away.” Harry plays with the rings on his fingers. “A couple days later, the same guy and his friends, jumped me and beat the shit out of me in the alleyway next to the Chinese food place.” Harry stays quiet just twisting the rings on his fingers.  “The night that you wanted to talk, and I took off…I went to the pub. I just wanted to be alone and have one drink, but he showed up, put his hand on my thigh and I told him off and I thought he’d leave me alone.” Harry pulls in a shaky breath. “But he put something in my drink.” He sniffs wrapping his arms around his stomach. “He pushed me into the bathroom, locked the door…I couldn’t fight back—I couldn’t move.  I wanted him to kill me. I knew that would be better than what he was going to do.” Harry looks straight out ahead; eyes filling with tears. “He held me against the wall and pulled my pants down.” He looks down, breathing in and out slowly.  “He raped me, Niall.”

The words crush Niall.

The first time he ever punched someone, it was to protect Harry. He made it through many firsts in life with Harry. They were going to be together for the rest of their lives. Loving and protecting each other and Niall let Harry down. He wasn’t there when Harry couldn’t protect himself. Everything that Harry said could’ve been avoided if Niall was there.

He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell Harry that everything’s going to be alright, but he’s had people say that to him before and it’s never gotten better. Things just get worse.

“I couldn’t tell anyone,” Harry says in a soft tone. “Every time I thought about telling anyone, I got sick to my stomach and everyone was already worried enough…I didn’t want to make things worse. I didn’t want everyone looking at me; knowing what happened—I didn’t want things to get worse, but I close my eyes and I see his face, I hear his voice, and I can feel his hands on me. I just wanted it to be over.” Harry looks up at Niall. “I want it to be over.”

Niall breathes out slowly standing there in the cold staring at Harry. The redness in Harry’s cheeks matches his tired eyes. He notices for the first time, how thin Harry’s gotten. How his cheekbones and jawline are more pronounced.

He’s lost the innocence in his face and the light in his eyes that were the markers of youth. Harry seems so much older like he’d aged fifteen years rather than one.

“Don’t,” Niall says softly.

Harry looks at him. “What?”

“I don’t know what else to say to you,” Niall replies. “Just please don’t kill yourself.” Niall walks over toward Harry and crouches down as best he can with his leg until he gives up and just sits on the cold ground to Harry’s side so that he’s facing him. “I don’t know how to convince you that there are people that care about you. People that at this very moment are out there looking for you; terrified that they might be too late.” Niall looks at the ground and then his eyes flicker up to meet Harry’s. “What that guy did to you isn’t your fault. None of it is. I want you to get to a point in your life where you are happy and healthy, not even just despite that guy, but for yourself, because that’s what you deserve, Harry. You deserve to be happy for yourself. And I think that you can get there. Just promise me—promise yourself that you won’t do it.”

Harry looks over and up at the top of the long stretch of the viaduct and then back down at Niall.

“What if I can’t promise you that?” Harry says. “I can’t…I don’t want people to know. I can’t do that.”

Niall inches closer to Harry. “And they don’t have to know, alright?” Niall thinks for a moment. “What if I make you a promise? Or maybe it’s more a proposal?” he breathes out. “I won’t tell anybody anything about what you told me and in exchange, you keep seeing Dr. Lauer.  We can go there together, and we don’t have to talk about any of it ever again, but you need to take care of yourself, Harry. And I will be there if you need anything.  I’ve treated you like crap for the last year, and it’s time I start paying you back for all the bull-shite I put you through. I will never stop being sorry for what I did to you.” Niall puts his hand out toward Harry, resting it softly on the ground between them. “Just please come home with me.”

Harry looks at Niall and then at Niall’s hand. He nods his head. “Okay.” Harry reaches out and takes Niall’s hand, but to Niall’s surprise, Harry stands and is the one that helps Niall off the ground. “We’ll do this together.” Harry gently rubs his thumb over the back of Niall’s hand before he lets go.

They walk side by side back to the road and Niall asks if it’s okay that he lets Bressie know. He doesn’t say anything other than that, because he doesn’t want to say _, let Bressie know that Harry didn’t kill himself_ , _let Bressie know that Harry was alright_ , which isn’t true. Harry isn’t alright. Harry wanted to die and if Niall’s being honest with himself, Harry probably still wants to die, but he’s going to try one more time, and that’s all Niall can ask for at this point.

They get back to the house and Niall tells Harry to get some sleep, but to not close the door.  It’ll have to be a rule for a little while at least.

When the rest of the lads, Bressie, Nick, Louis, and Liam show up to the house, Niall doesn’t let them inside, instead, despite the cold, he joins them out on the porch.

“What the hell happened?” Bressie asks.

“Where did you find him?” Nick chimes in.

They are all staring at Niall.  His eyes dart between all of them.

“He was at the viaduct,” Niall starts to say and before any of them can get a word in, he continues with what would be the answer to their question. “He wasn’t up on top, he was sitting down at the bottom.”

“So, he wasn’t trying to kill himself?” Liam asks.

Niall shakes his head. “He was going to do it, but he…I don’t know exactly, but we talked, and I got him to come back home.”

“I don’t get it,” Louis says, raking a hand through his messy hair. “How could things get this bad for him? What did he say to you?”

Niall feels like deer in the headlights, with the way they are all looking at him. “I can’t tell you that, but he is going to get help.”

“What the bloody hell do you mean you can’t us?” Nick bites back. “He trusts all of us a hell of a lot more than he trusts you.”

It’s safe to say that Nick was the one that hasn’t forgiven Niall in the slightest. He has always been protective of Harry and he knows that’s why Nick is really so upset.

“I promised that I wouldn’t say anything if he promised to continue seeing Dr. Lauer. What’s going on with him isn’t my place to tell you, anyway. Who he tells is up to him.”

None of them see happy about this information.

There’s something about the way that Bressie looks at him that stings. Bressie was always the one person that Niall could rely on, but he fucked up. He didn’t just leave Harry when he left. He hurt Bressie too. He put him through hell when Bressie came with him to physical therapy. And Niall knows that Bressie and Harry were close, which is what upset him the most when he thought that Harry had left him to die.  But now, Bressie is just as or even more so, defensive of Harry, and Niall is the enemy.

“Look,” Niall says looking between all of them. “I’ll tell him you came by but seeing all of you is going to be too much for him right now. He doesn’t want us asking him questions, he just needs to know that we support him no matter what. But trying to get him to talk about what’s going on is just going to push him away.”

None of them are convinced to leave.

“I know you’re all pissed at me,” Niall says dropping the nice act. “You have a right to be, but for whatever reason right now, he trusts me. So, if you want what’s best for him you all need to leave. I promise that I won’t do anything that could hurt him or make things worse, alright? And if anything changes or he needs you, I’ll call.”

Niall hates saying it. He’s looking at the four people that did nothing but love and protect Harry and he’s asking them to leave him with someone who treated him like shit.

“Fine,” Bressie says gruffly. “We’ll leave.” He turns gesturing for the others to head down the sidewalk. Nick looks pissed and Louis and Liam look sad.

Niall turns to head back inside, but Bressie grabs him by the arm and stops him. He looks Niall directly in the eye when he speaks, and Niall feels genuinely afraid of Bressie for the first time in his life.

“We both know him trusting you is bull-shite,” Bressie says through gritted teeth. “You were the worst part of him. He looks at you and sees you as the thing that was going to kill him.  You’re a vice. He stopped caring about himself so much that he figured he’d let you get close, so you could finish the job and drive him over the edge.” Bressie lets go of Niall’s arm. “You might have stopped him today, but don’t fool yourself into thinking that you weren’t part of the reason he was willing to go through with it in the first place.”

Bressie walks down the steps and joins the others at the end of the walkway.

Niall watches them walk down the sidewalk and out of sight before he goes back inside.

The house is quiet and Niall peeks into the bedroom and sees Harry, thankfully, asleep in the bed. Niall can’t help the smallest notion of a smile that pulls at the corner of his lips. He’s happy Harry’s alright. He stands there a little longer, watching Harry’s chest rise up and down before he goes out to the kitchen.

He’s hungry and he knows he hasn’t eaten all day. He pulls random leftovers out of the refrigerator. He chops the chicken breast into chunks and tossed them into a bowl, adding the vegetables from three separate nights, corn, peas, green beans.  He grinds in some salt and pepper and mixes in the leftover gravy.  He preheats the oven, empties the bowl into a glass pan, and sprinkles on some breadcrumbs, before he puts it in the oven and sets a timer before it’s even up to temperature.

It was something that his foster mother, Mrs. McCabe, did all the time. She’d cook dinner all week and then on Fridays, she’s pull out some leftovers and figure out what could be put together in a casserole or a soup and it would become something else.

It became something that Niall continued to do after he moved out. Harry looked forward to it. He’d sit at the counter watching Niall try to make something new out of that week’s leftovers. And sometimes, Harry would make something obscure during the week just to see what Niall would make out of it on Friday.

The thought makes Niall stop for a moment, looking toward the open bedroom door, thinking about what’s happened in the last day alone, those memories hardly seem real.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but as soon as he left Harry, there was a shadow in his mind that wished he hadn’t. He hated being over there without him. Niall had moments where he’d look for Harry at the mess hall or in morning PT, until he remembered that Harry wasn’t there. When things got harder and being over there no longer seemed worth it, he’d have a brief moment where he’d want to talk to Harry about it before he remembered. He should’ve never gone back. It seemed like they’d work hard for months only to be completely setback in a single day.  He got blown apart, watched men get shot, or die in front of him…he wasn’t there for Harry.  He should’ve never gone back.

Niall gets the hot pads from the drawer and sets them on the counter while he waits for the food to be done. 

It seemed like such a stupid thing to be doing after they day he’s had. It was only a few hours ago that he brought Harry back home after he was going to kill himself, and yet, here Niall is making dinner while Harry sleeps in what used to be their room.

That thought leaves a weird fog in Niall’s mind; _their room_. It hadn’t been their room in almost two years.

Bressie’s words run through Niall’s mind. He knew Bressie was upset but that was something that Niall has never seen from him. But the thought that hurts the most, might be that Bressie’s right and he doesn’t want to do that to Harry…he doesn’t want to be that.

Niall gets a plate from the cupboard and he hears the floorboards creak behind him.

He turns and sees Harry standing there in his oversized grey sweatshirt and sweatpants.

“Hey,” Niall says softly. He puts the plate on the counter. He doesn’t want to ask Harry how he’s feeling or if he’s alright, because why would he be? He wanted to kill himself earlier in the day. “You hungry?” Niall asks instead. It’s a more just question since he doesn’t know when Harry last ate.

Harry nods his head.

Niall gives a gentle smile. He gets another plate from the cupboard and sets it on the counter. “Should be just a few more minutes.”

Harry wordlessly goes over and sits at the counter.

Without being asked, Niall gets two glasses and fills them with the pitcher of water from the fridge. He sets one in front of Harry and takes a sip of the other before he puts it on the counter.

He’s thinking this is good. Harry’s vertical, he’s hungry, he’s going to eat something.

Niall’s feeling tired though. He thought about taking a nap while Harry slept, but he didn’t want to take the chance of Harry slipping out of the house while he was asleep.

He can tell that Harry is looking at him. Not staring, but occasionally, he lets his eyes linger on Niall, like he notices something but doesn’t want to say anything until he’s sure.

The timer goes off and Niall puts on an oven mitt before he takes the glass pan out of the oven and sets it on the potholders on the counter.

Harry looks at the pan and Niall sees him smile, the corner of his mouth pulling up in the slightest.

They don’t say anything as they sit beside each other eating. Harry takes small bites and takes a sip of water between every bite before he puts his hands back in his lap.

Harry feels so distant even though he’s sitting beside Niall only a few inches away.

 

 

Anne shows up at the house the next morning.

Niall’s a little off put by seeing her. He wanted to give Harry a chance to collect himself before he had to explain himself to anyone, and the fact that it’s almost eleven a.m. and Harry’s still sleeping, Niall knows he hasn’t gotten enough time to pull himself together to see his mum.

Niall let’s Anne in and goes over and peeks in the bedroom, where Harry is sound asleep, and he pulls the door shut, before giving Anne his attention.

“I thought he’d be at Nick’s, but Nick said he was here,” Anne says looking at Niall curiously.

“He’s um…he’s still sleeping,” Niall says nervously gesturing to the closed door. He joins Anne in the living room, sitting in the arm chair while Anne takes a seat on the couch.

“He’s not well, is he?” Anne asks. She gives him a knowing look.

Even after how much Niall’s changed, Anne can still read him like a book.

“He had a rough day yesterday,” Niall says looking down at his hands. A piece of him wants to tell Anne everything, because she’ll know what to do. She’ll know what to say and how to act around Harry so that he doesn’t end up back at the viaduct.  “After I called…” Niall starts to say, “he disappeared for a few hours, he went to see a therapist, she’s in the same office that I go to and Bressie recommended her to him, but…I don’t know exactly what happened but when he left she was worried about his state of mind and—”

“State of mind?” Anne questions, but as soon as Niall looks at her, she seems to understand, and tears roll down her cheeks before she brushes them away.

“I found him out by the viaduct…”

“Where you boys used to hang out?”

Niall nods. “He wasn’t up top.” He tries to lessen the blow. “He was just sitting at the bottom and we talked, and I convinced him…or he convinced himself to come back. He ate a little last night, but he’s just been sleeping for a while.”

Anne reaches out and rests her hand on Niall’s hand where it rests on his fake knee. “I’m just thankful that you were there,” she says with a caring smile.

Niall shakes his head and stands, he tries to subdue the anxiety building up inside him.

“Niall? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

God, Anne was like a mother to him, but she is first and foremost Harry’s mother.

“I was part of the reason he was there in the first place,” Niall hears himself say. “I left him here and awful things happened to him and when I got back, I was so angry, and I just blamed him for everything that happened to me.” He looks at Anne. “I might have been the person that brought him back, but I was the one that pushed him to that point in the first place. Everything with him and the rest of the lads wouldn’t have happened if I—”

Anne stands and walks over to him, taking his hands in hers, waiting until Niall finally has the courage to look at her. “Niall Horan,” she says lightly. “Will blaming yourself help anyone? Will it fix everything that’s going on with Harry?”

Niall shakes his head.

“That’s right…you don’t fix things by blaming yourself, you fix things by doing something about it.” Anne’s eyes are so soft. “Now, if you can’t or won’t do anything to make things better for yourself, for Harry, or for the rest of your friends; I can go in that room and convince Harry to come home with me, but if you think that you are up for it, then he can stay here with you and his friends.” Anne’s thumbs rub softly over the back of Niall’s hands. “So, are you up for it?”

“What if it just hurts him more by staying with me?” Niall asks in a quiet voice.

“We all have to make our own decisions in life, but if _you_ think he’s truly better off without you around, then _you_ need to be the one that makes that decision for yourself. Either one of you can leave, and that’s your own decision. But don’t just leave because you might be too afraid of hurting him again, if you leave, do it because it’s the right thing. Because Niall, if you don’t want to hurt him again, then don’t, you know each other well enough that you know exactly what will push the other over the edge, but you also know how to love each other, too. You care about him, I know that, because otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Don’t leave because it’s too hard to stay.”

Anne leans forward and kisses Niall’s forehead.

“If you’d like to take some time for yourself, I’ll stay with Harry for a while.” Anne says. “I’m not saying disappear for days, but at least give yourself until dinner time.” She smiles and drops Niall’s hands and goes over to the kitchen.

Niall stands there, a little dumbstruck, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t really know where to go or what to do when he’s grabbing his coat and heading for the door.

 _Don’t leave because it’s too hard to stay._   Anne’s words ring in his mind. He thinks that if he were to leave, this would be the right time. Anne’s at the house with Harry and his friends still love and care about him, and Niall seems to be the one keeping everyone away. 

His leg is still bothering him a little and the cold isn’t helping any, but he has a few hours to burn and no one to go to. 

He gets into town and sees someone walk inside the pub. He was pretty sure it was Dan, but it makes him stop in his tracks.

He can’t go to the pub to hang out like he used to. Bressie was pissed at him for everything that went on with Harry.

He decides to go into the movie theater instead. It’d kill more time. 

There is a group of guys in front of him in line and as soon as they get their tickets, one of the them looks back at Niall.

He’s not sure that he recognizes the guy. He’s tall and well-built, and he looks at Niall like some sort of game has been initiated between them.

Niall tries to ignore it, but when the group sits in the back of the theater, Niall feels eyes on him for the whole two hours of the movie. When everyone else get up, when the credits start to roll, Niall stays in his seat until he’s sure that the group is gone.

Niall wanders around town for a little while. He’s freezing and he’s getting a headache from the cold, but he keeps walking, or rather, limping at this point.

He’s staring at the ground when he passes in front of the bank and runs right into someone coming out the front doors.

He starts apologizing before he sees Louis staring back at him, hand on Niall’s shoulders, trying to steady him.

“Who’s with Harry?” is the first thing Louis asks.

“Anne’s there,” Niall replies in a soft tone. “He’s been sleeping for most of the day.”

“Oh uh…” Louis stumbles over his words. “What are you up to out here, then?”

Niall shrugs. “She wanted some time with him, so I just…I don’t really know.”

“I just got off work. I was going to stop at the pub if you wanted to come,” Louis offers.

“No, it’s okay, Bressie and I—it’s complicated,” Niall admits.

“Harry was a mess before you even got back, Niall,” Louis says, in a knowing way. “He’s been lying to all of us about how he’s been. The more we tried to reach out to him the more he retreated from us…I’m sure we all could’ve done more, but sometimes, we just don’t know how much _more_ or _less_ is going to hurt or help. You can’t blame yourself. And we shouldn’t be blaming each other.”

Niall isn’t sure how true that is. They should blame him.

“I should’ve never left him in the first place,” Niall admits.

“Can’t change the past, Nialler,” Louis says. “And at this point, we all just need to take it one day at a time.”

He can’t deny that, because that was pretty much Niall’s plan. He’d take it one day at a time and then he figured one day Harry would finally decide to leave or to tell Niall to leave and the decision would finally be made. Niall doesn’t want to leave Harry only because he doesn’t want to leave before he knows that Harry’s on a better path.

He meant what he said at the viaduct. He just wants Harry to be happy and healthy. So, whether or not he’s in that picture with Harry, is yet to be determined.

Niall walks with Louis to the pub, but leaves it at that, until Louis’ chancing after him a minute later, saying that Bressie isn’t even there.  Niall’s hesitant, but Louis insists.

They really haven’t talked at all since Niall got home. Liam was the moving force when Niall ended up back in the hospital after Niall tried to stab himself, but Louis remained distant.

Niall thought it was because of the way that Niall treated Harry, but after talking to Louis at the pub, he saw things a little differently.

Louis wasn’t only Niall’s superior in the army, but he was also Niall’s best friend, and Louis always looked at Niall like a little brother. And in Louis’ eyes, he led his little brother into the village and got his leg blown off. Louis still felt guilty for what happened that day. He felt like it was his fault for the way Niall was when he got back.

Louis couldn’t have prevented it. It wasn’t his fault and Niall never blamed him for a second.

When Niall gets back to the house, Anne’s finished cooking dinner and Harry’s sitting at the counter. He doesn’t look totally with it, but at least he’s out of bed for a little.

He spent a lot more time with Louis at the pub than he intended. He didn’t drink at all aside from water, which bummed Louis out a little bit, but he understood and didn’t push at all. They only left when they overheard Dan on the phone with Bressie, saying that he’d be back soon.

Harry looks over his shoulder when Niall walks in and Anne just gives a small smile.

God, bless, Anne, Niall thinks to himself. That woman didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She was protective, which is where Gemma got it from, and Harry as well, in the right situation, but Anne rarely got angry and never held a grudge.

Niall goes to his room to take off his prosthetic for at least a few minutes. He didn’t like other people seeing his leg. There is still so much scarring.  There are scars everywhere.

 _Maybe it’s a good thing we’re not together_ , he thinks. He imagines trying to live the life they thought they would have. The house, the dog, the kids, the vacations. He tries to imagine interacting with kids and them being scared of his fake leg and all his scars.

There’s a light knock at the door.

“Niall?” Anne’s voice comes through soft and gentle.

Niall quickly rolls his pantleg back down to cover his exposed stump before he says that she can come in.

Anne opens the door and pokes her head inside with a light smile.

“Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry,” she says.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Niall says giving an awkward smile.

It feels like when he would try to hide something from his foster mother, but in this case, it was his leg instead of Harry, who was usually standing frozen in Niall’s closet until Mrs. McCabe left.

Anne smiles and goes back out to the kitchen.

Niall looks at the prosthetic leg, resting against the bed frame. He doesn’t want to put it back on. Taking it off somedays is like when they’d get back to the barracks from patrol or working a check point and they’d get to take their gear off. It was like unloading a burden and it was secretly Niall’s favorite part of the day. 

Niall doesn’t want to distract from the priority here, which in this case, is Harry, so he rolls his pantleg back up and secures the prosthetic back onto his leg, before he goes out of the room.  

For a moment, it feels like it used to when Harry would invite Niall over to have dinner at his house or when Anne would come to theirs after they bought the house together.

It feels the same, only Harry seems like a faded version of himself.

They get through dinner with little conversation and afterward, Anne seems reluctant to leave.

Niall doesn’t blame her. Harry looks like a mess and Niall isn’t far behind. She has a similar look on her face that she did when they’d get up to kid stuff when they were little and they’d be soaking wet or covered in mud and she couldn’t leave them alone to clean it up themselves. Only this time, it’s different in that Harry and Niall aren’t ten years old. Niall was twenty-five and Harry wasn’t far behind, with his birthday in February. 

Anne hugs Niall goodbye. He’s’ not used to that. He honestly didn’t realize until it was happening how long it had been since he’d hugged, or even came into close contact with someone.

He goes to the kitchen to finish cleaning up while Anne says goodbye to Harry. They speak in hushed tones, which is probably for the best since loud noises had a tendency to set either one of them off.

When Anne leaves, Harry turns around and watches Niall washing dishes for a moment before he says anything. “Leave those for the morning,” Harry says.

Niall shrugs it off. “It’s fine, Harry. There aren’t that many anyway.”

“Niall,” Harry says taking a few steps toward the kitchen. The way he says Niall’s name, hits Niall hard. It’s the same tone Harry would use when he thought Niall was being silly and needed to listen to him. “Your leg…you’ve been limping. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Niall was trying to ignore the pain in his leg.

“And don’t say it’s fine,” Harry continues as if he read Niall’s mind.

Niall rinses off his hands. “Fine,” he says toweling them off. He turns off the overhead light in the kitchen and goes toward his room down the hallway.

“Thank you,” Harry says out of the blue, making Niall turn toward him. “I don’t know what you did or didn’t say to my mum but thank you for not telling her everything.”

“I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Niall states like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world.

“I know,” Harry says. His fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “But I guess saying that you won’t tell anyone and actually doing it are a bit different. Specially with what I did tell you.”

“I really am sorry for everything I put you through, Harry. You didn’t deserve any of it.” Niall looks at the floor. “I know we used to trust each other implicitly, and I want to get that back.”

Harry looks sad for a moment. Niall recognizes the look in his eyes; the way the light catches the water building up in his eyes. Harry looks up at Niall. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess…” Harry goes into his room without another word.

Niall stands there speechless, because he regrets saying that last part. It’s true that they used to trust each other wholeheartedly, and Niall knows he hasn’t given Harry a reason to trust him again, but he wants to gain that trust back. He just shouldn’t have said it out loud. Not today anyway. He didn’t want to push Harry and end up losing him for good.

 

+++

 

Niall stares at the envelope. He recognizes the name on the return address from nights of soldiers sharing things about their families when they were homesick, but this name makes Niall’s stomach drop.

His hands shake as he rips through the top of the envelope with his thumb. There’s two pages folded into each other nestled in the pocket. He takes it out and tosses the envelope on the coffee table in front of him.

He carefully unfolds it like it’s a fragile bomb about to go off, which would be just for the occasion, and his heart sinks.

 

_I’m sending this letter hoping that it finds Niall Horan. I got this address from someone in your unit and hope that you are still living there as I have no other way of contacting you._

_My name is Gale Clifford and I believe you knew my son, Michael Clifford._

_When I was told of the circumstances of my son’s death, I was angry and heartbroken. I wanted to meet the man who let my son die, but I understand now that those feelings came from losing my son to a reckless and senseless war._

_I wish to speak to you in person. I have felt for a long time that Michael will come home one day even though I know that isn’t possible, but I look at the door waiting without realizing it._

_I don’t know if you carry any guilt or anger toward what happened the day that Michael died, but I hope that both of us can get closure by talking about him._

_I’ve enclosed my mobile number and address and I hope to hear from you._

_Thank you,_

_Gale Clifford_

Niall looks at the second page and sure enough there is Gale Clifford’s contact information, but the words and numbers go blurry from the tears welling in Niall’s eyes and he throws the letter on the coffee table.

He stands and automatically starts pacing back and forth, pulling at his hair and rubbing his face. He ignores the way his stump starts to ache in the prosthetic. He can feel his heart start to race and he knows if he doesn’t calm down that he’s going to have an episode and he can’t do that to Harry.

It’s been almost a week since Niall brought Harry home and Harry’s just starting to come out of his room more and Niall knows if he has an episode, it might turn all that around.

But god, his pulse won’t slow down, and he tries shaking out his hands and pinching his skin, trying anything to remind his brain that _this_ is real life and not whatever his brain is inching toward.

Harry is going to be home soon from his session with Dr. Lauer that Nick took him to any minute.

Niall promised Harry that he’d go with him if he needed him, but Nick and Bressie made a stop to that quicker than expected. They didn’t trust Niall with Harry, and now that Niall was inching closer to a blackout episode, he didn’t blame them. They shouldn’t trust him to keep Harry safe.

Niall tries sitting on the floor but that seems to make matters worse and he just feels more panicked without the stimulation of pacing.  He reaches over and grabs the house phone off the end table. He knows Nick’s number is still programed on the speed dial and he doesn’t really know what he’s doing when Nick answers.

“This better be good,” Nick says with a flat tone.

“Is Harry still with you? Where are you guys?” Niall says in one breath and he’s not even sure that it came out coherent enough.

“We stopped at the sandwich shop. I’m getting him food before he has to go back there with you,” Nick says.

“Don’t,” Niall chokes out.

“Why?” Nick fires back.

“Keep Harry away from here for at least an hour,” Niall says but the edges of his vision are going blurry as his breathing increases.

For some reason, that gets Nick’s attention. “What’s going on over there, Niall?” Nick says in a more hushed tone, probably so that Harry won’t hear him.

“I can’t…I can’t get…I’m gonna have an episode,” Niall pulls himself off the floor. “I don’t want to hurt him.” Niall ends the call and tosses the phone onto the couch before he goes racing into the bathroom.

He pulls the lever all the way over to hot and starts the shower. When the steam starts pouring out, he races to get his prosthetic off and sets it on the floor, he gets in fully clothed and sits in the tub. The water is scorching hot. He can feel it burn his skin through his clothes. He pinches his eye shut, focusing on the pain, because the pain kept in here.

His pulse races and he digs his fingers into the skin on his thigh and stomach. Anything to keep him from going under.

His scars burn the most under the hot water. The sensitivity is like sunburn and he almost relishes in the pain it brings him.

_He sees the car out of the corner of his eye and the placement of the vehicle is what draws him toward it. It just seemed so out of place.  Clifford looks back at him, because he too noticed the out of place car._

“Niall?”

It’s all red and black splotches behind his lids. Trying to think about anything.

_Clifford’s face crosses his vision. How quickly his face contorted into fear when Niall finally understood what was so off about the car. He called out and reached toward Clifford when the flames burst out white hot. Debris flew everywhere, and Clifford disappeared in front of him._

“Niall?”

Hands are on him and retract quickly, but he can’t open his eyes.

“Niall?” the voice says and the water shuts off.

Niall’s skin burns. Not as bad as that day, but maybe it’s enough.

“Niall, c’mon.” Hands grab him under his arms and the person lifts Niall out of the tub, before both of them are in a heap on the bathroom floor. “Niall, open your eyes. C’mon, look at me,” they say holding Niall’s head against their chest.

Niall breathes in and he recognizes the scent right away, the one that is distinctly Harry’s.

He opens his eyes and sure enough Harry is looking down at him with specks of water dripping down his face.

It seems surreal.  Like a dream that he’ll wake from and the house will be a mess and Harry will be bleeding or bruised.

Harry looks over his shoulder where Nick stands in the bathroom doorway. “Can you get him some dry clothes from the other room?” he says softly.

Nick stands there a moment, not wanting to leave Harry alone with Niall but he complies and disappears from the doorway.

“Harry…” Niall whines. His scars burn from the heat of the water. His body feels like it’s throbbing.

“It’s fine, Niall,” Harry says, but he starts rocking slightly, holding Niall tightly against him.

 

 

Niall wakes up in dry clothes in Harry’s bed, but he doesn’t see Harry anywhere. His head hurts and his skin feels raw.  He sits up and sees his prosthetic sitting in the corner charging.  Niall hears muffled voices in the living room. He stays as quiet as possible listening in trying to figure out who the voices belong to and what they are saying.

“You’re not staying here, Harry,” Nick’s voice is loud enough that it doesn’t take much effort to discern. “Niall’s still got a lot of issues.”

“I’ve still got a lot of issues,” Harry fires back in his low drawl. “You want to kick me out too? I mean, it was only last week I was going to off myself?”

“That’s different. You didn’t do that to him. You didn’t blow his leg off.” Nick pauses. “He’s the one that drove you to that point. He’s the one that did that to you.”

“He’s the one that brought me back,” Harry says. “He knew where I was and when he got there, he didn’t ask me what was wrong, he didn’t demand to know everything. I told him because I didn’t have anything left to lose.”

“You were pissed at him before that,” Nick reminds him.

“Niall’s mind convinced him that I walked away from him and left him to die. My mind convinced me that what happened to me was my fault. But neither of us was right. I know better than everybody what your head can convince you of. I’m not saying that I’m cured, because I’m not. I still think about it. I think about doing it, but I don’t, because he asked me to promise him that I wouldn’t even though I didn’t think I could hold that promise. He tried to kill himself right where I’m standing, he’s gotten better and he’s trying to figure things out, and that’s all I want to do too.”

“No, you want to see if he’s still in there,” Nick says. “You want to know if the blond kid that you fell in love with is still in there, and he’s not Harry. You need to move on.”

“I’m not looking to get back with him,” Harry says in a low tone.

“Then why are still living with him?” Nick says. “Either move out or kick him out.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not, Harry? He doesn’t need you anymore and you sure as hell don’t need him.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why? Because that’s the way it looks to me.” Nick breathes out.

“We’re in this together.”

Nick laughs. “Well, that’s bull-shite. You’re not a kid anymore, Harry. You need to grow up.”

“A kid would walk away…I’m a least trying. We’ve both made mistakes and now we have to fix it.”

Nick doesn’t say anything and Niall hears footsteps across the creaky floorboards.

“What’s that?” Nick asks.

“It’s nothing,” Harry says quickly. “Look, I’m gonna go to bed, so if you don’t mind…”

“Am I going to see you tomorrow?” Nick asks quietly.

“Maybe, I’m supposed to go back to work on the day shift tomorrow, so…”

“Just be careful, Harold.” Nick’s voice has a lightness to it. The voice that Niall was used to hearing when Nick talked to Harry.

To be honest, Nick and Harry’s friendship has always been playful and light, so hearing Nick get upset and even angry toward Harry wasn’t something he was used to.

The front door opens and closes, and he can hear Harry walk over to lock it before he goes over and stands in front of the closed bedroom door.

Niall sits up and rubs his eyes waiting until Harry finally opens the door and walks in.

It’s really just his silhouette, outlined by the light from the living room and contrasted by the darkness of the bedroom. 

Harry walks in further and turns the lamp on the nightstand on.

Niall watches him and that’s when he sees the folded letter in Harry’s hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Harry asks quietly. He waves the letter briefly before he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Didn’t have a chance to…” Niall replies. He moves to face Harry better and his scars scream at him.

“The letter is what set you off.” Harry states.

Niall looks at him, remembering the first time he had an episode and he hurt Harry. “I called Nick so he’d keep you away until it was safe. I didn’t want to hurt you again.”

“I don’t think you would’ve,” Harry says.

“I can’t control what happens during an episode, Harry.” Niall looks down at the duvet. God, last time they were in this bed together, they were properly together before Niall left Harry.

“Actually, I don’t think it was an episode, Niall,” Harry says. There’s a bit of a glint in his eye. It’s youthful and innocent. “I think you had a panic attack…which I get it, the same thing has happened to me. I got so worried about having an episode that I would freak myself out. I’d lock myself in the bathroom to make sure I didn’t get out and hurt anyone. You freak yourself out so much you end up putting yourself into an episode.”

“I still have a lot of issues, Harry. Maybe Nick’s right and I should leave.”

“I’ve got issues too, Niall.” Harry’s gaze drops. “I still hardly sleep in an actual bed. I’m anxious and depressed and suicidal.” He looks at Niall. “You left because you didn’t think you could stay here and live a normal life, and you were right, but that’s because there’s no such thing as a normal life.” Harry breathes out and gives a faint smile. “So, yeah we’re a bit fucked up, but we’re still better together.”

“You seem too okay with all this,” Niall states.

Harry laughs slightly. “Dr. Lauer is still trying to figure out my meds, but therapy every other day has been good so far. I mean, it’s only been a week, so I’m still not totally on top of things. My brain feels foggy and distant half the time, but whether or not I tell anybody…I know I can’t keep living like this. I’ve got to at least try to get better.”

Niall nods and gives a small smile good.

“So, what are you going to do about this letter?” Harry says handing it to Niall.

Niall shakes his head. “I can’t see her…her son died five feet in front of me. I don’t want closure. Every time I see his face…every time I think about that moment…I dunno, I should’ve known something was wrong the moment we stepped foot in that village. They never fire at you when they can draw you in to blow you up instead.”

“I think you should hold onto the letter though,” Harry says. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

Niall disagrees. “She doesn’t need to see all this,” Niall gestures to his missing leg and the scars on the left side of his face and body. “I’d honestly feel better if she was still angry at me. It’d be easier to deal with.” Niall turns so his leg is hanging over the side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Harry questions.

Niall scooches himself down the edge of the bed and hops the three feet to where his prosthetic leg is charging. He unplugs it and hops back to the bed to sit down so he can put it back on.  “I’m going to bed,” Niall says. He gets the fake leg situated, stands and starts walking toward the bedroom door.

“I thought about you…” Harry says when Niall reaches the doorway.

“What?” Niall says turning to face Harry.

“When him and his friends beat the shit out of me…when he kissed me in the bathroom that first time… when he held me against the wall—I thought about you.” Harry looks down at his hands. “You were the only man I’d ever kissed—the only man I’d ever been with.” Harry looks up at him and Niall can see the tears staining Harry’s cheeks. “I felt like I’d screwed things up with you and if I’d done something different then those things wouldn’t have happened. But when they beat me in that alleyway, I got up and I got back here and the only thing I wanted to do was pick up the phone and hear your voice. That’s what I was doing when I accidently called Nick before I passed out. I wasn’t calling for help…I just wanted to hear your voice one last time before I died.” Harry gets ups and moves closer so that he’s only about a foot away from Niall. “I don’t think I regretted what he did to me as much as I hated how much of you he took away from me.”

“I’m not that person anymore, Harry.” Niall shifts his weight. “I loved you—I still love you…you’re not tainted by what he did to you. You’re still Harry. Not the same one that I abandoned here, not the same one that got shot, not the same one I proposed to, not the same one who let me crash in his room whenever I needed to when we were little. Neither of us are the same. But we’re still Harry and Niall. Just different…” Niall wants so badly to just reach out and take Harry’s hands, but he keeps his fingers occupied with the hem of his shirt instead.  “He didn’t take me away from you…he could never do that.  I tried to runaway to a war and I still ended up back here with you. The only thing that could take me away from you now, would be if you asked me to leave.” Niall lowers his gaze and walks out of the bedroom. He pauses though and looks back at Harry. “I only want what’s best for you, Harry.  I know that got clouded over for a long time, but it’s true.”

Niall walks down the hall and Harry stands there until he hears the bedroom door shut. Everything is so messed up. He still wants Niall in his life even though everything in him is screaming at him to get as far away from Niall as possible and maybe that’s because Harry knows that Niall Horan is the only person capable of truly hurting him.

 

+++

 

Before, Nick, Bressie, Louis and Liam were worried about leaving Harry alone with Niall, but now, that seemed to be the common occurrence.

After Niall found Harry at the viaduct, the other boys didn’t feel like they had a place in Harry’s life as much as they did before.  They were all still worried about Harry’s attachment to Niall after everything that Niall put Harry through. Louis and Liam explained to Nick and Bressie why Niall ended up in the hospital in September. Nick still didn’t trust him.

Nick tried to keep Harry close, but that only seemed to push Harry away. After Niall’s panic attack, Harry hoped that his relationship with Nick would go back to normal, but it teetered and subsequently fell off.

Bressie still kept an eye on Harry at work. He tried to talk to Niall about what he said on the porch that day, but Niall wouldn’t hear it. Not because he was pissed at Bressie, but because he felt there was some truth to what Bressie said.  

Harry did get closer to Niall after the rape, and even though the other boys don’t know about that, Niall does, and he can’t help but think about what Bressie said about him being the worst part of Harry. He tries to keep himself in check when Harry’s around.  He acts like nothing is different…but not like they are together, or engaged, but civil friends.

They don’t talk much. It’s mostly getting to appointments, eating dinner, and watching television, because they don’t talk to each other all that much, but it’s comfortable enough just between the two of them that it makes everything else going on with them and around them a little easier to bear.

In the cold of the end of December, everything feels still and void around them.

It’s Christmas Eve and Niall bakes oatmeal cookies, because he knows that they are Harry’s favorite when they are fresh out of the oven.

Niall knows that Harry might eat only one, but he makes them anyway, because one cookie was better than nothing. He knew, he could tell that Harry was losing weight. He was always thin but now, Harry’s cheekbones look more pronounced and his energy is nonexistent.

His stump throbs a little from standing so much. He’d taken a walk early in the morning before Harry even got up. He knew it was a bad idea with how cold it was outside, but Niall had that _flee_ feeling when he woke up…he had it when he went to bed too, but hoped it would fade. It was the feeling that came over him when his anxiety would start acting up. He ignored it for most of the day, as the feeling lingered even after he took his meds with breakfast.

Harry’s in the shower so Niall cleans up the kitchen, puts the cookies on a plate, setting them aside on the counter so Harry will see them the moment he comes out into the main room. 

It’s not that Niall needs validation from Harry or thanks or anything, he just wants Harry to smile, even if it’s just for a moment.

The medication Harry is on for his depression seems to strip a lot away that is just naturally Harry. He seems even, but not in a good way. Like his emotions don’t sway one way or the other, they are just stagnant in the middle. So, Niall can’t exactly say that Harry is getting better, but at least he doesn’t want to kill himself anymore…he doesn’t really want anything anymore.

Harry goes through the motions and to what Niall could tell, is faking it so no one will notice.  They’re still seeing Dr. Holt and Dr. Lauer, but there is only so much work that can be done, when there’s no crossover between the two doctors.

They’ve suggested getting both of them in the same room for a session, so that Niall and Harry can try to help each other, but as soon as Niall saw the look in Harry’s eyes, he dismissed the idea right away, because he didn’t want to put Harry over the edge again.

Harry comes out of the bedroom and to Niall’s surprise, Harry is fully dressed. He’s got on a soft blue button down with black jeans and his nicer boots.

He looks at Niall for a moment before he walks up to the counter where the plate of cookies sits. A smile tugs at the corner of his lip and he breaks a cookie in half and bites off a small piece.  The smile grows a little and then fades when he looks at the rest of the half cookie.

He places the rest of the cookie on the counter next to the plate and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I was going to go to the service at the church,” Harry says meekly. His eyes glance at Niall, before dropping back down.

“Oh, uh, okay,” Niall says. “I’ll uh…” Niall looks around, for something to occupy the time while Harry’s gone, but he already cleaned he entire kitchen.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come with me,” Harry says.

“Oh, uh…are you sure?” Niall asks. He doesn’t want to impose on Harry.

Harry nods. “It’s not the same without you.”

Niall smiles a little. “Okay, sure. I’ll uh…I’ll get changed real quick, yeah?”

Harry gives a small nod and Niall wanders off to his bedroom.

He riffles through the shirts hanging in the closest next to his uniform and all the junk they keep in there. He finds an off-white sweater, folded up on one of the shelves and has to work hard to get his nicer jeans on with the prosthetic, but he manages it.

There’s a doubt in his mind, telling him to go faster otherwise, he’ll get back out there, and Harry will be gone.

Niall has three pairs of shoes he can wear with his prosthetic; a pair of white sneakers, a pair of ankle boots (the only pair he could find designed a certain way to fit onto his fake foot), and a pair of black dress shoes.

He grabs the boots, and he can feel the ache in his stump, but he ignores it. Harry needs him and he’s not bailing out because of a little pain.  Nothing could hurt more than getting the leg blown off to begin with.

That thought makes Clifford’s face come into his vision and he shakes his head to get rid of it. He doesn’t want to think about Clifford right now. He tries not to think about him at all.

Niall grabs his paddy cap and coat from where he threw them onto the chair when he got back from his impromptu walk that morning.

He goes back out to the main area and Harry is sitting on one of the stools by the counter, with his coat folded over his arm. The rest of the half-cookie that he put on the counter was gone and for some reason that gave Niall a little hope.

Harry looks Niall up and down as he stands. Harry smiles and it strikes something in Niall. “You look very nice,” Harry says.

Niall feels his cheeks go red and he looks down at the floor for a moment to try to hide it, before he’s looking back up at Harry. “You look very handsome, too.”

“We should get going,” Harry says putting his coat on and walking toward the door.

Niall makes sure that everything is off in the kitchen before he follows Harry out the front door.

It’s bitterly cold outside and it’s just started to snow, leaving a thin layer of white on the sidewalk.

Niall second guesses himself in his decision to go with Harry. His stump is already starting to hurt, now he has the added bonus of the possibility of slipping on the snow.

Harry seems to sense his hesitation and links his arm into Niall’s.  Neither of them says anything, but it gives Niall a little more confidence, even though he can feel his heartrate pick up, but he doesn’t know if it’s because of his anxiety of from Harry touching him.

They get to the church and Harry makes sure Niall makes it up the front steps okay and lets go of Niall’s arm when they make it into the front lobby.

Most people knew about them, or at least guessed, but it seemed to make a lot of people more hostile when they saw them together out in public…not that they are together anymore, but people don’t really care or know for that matter.

Harry and Niall find a pew near the back and take off their coats before they sit down.

Niall wants to take off his prosthetic. His leg is still bothering him, and he can feel the tension in his back from walking all the way to the church from their house and being afraid of slipping even though Harry had a hold of him.

His anxiety ripples through him and he shakes out his hands as they wait for everyone else to take their seats. They get some dirty looks from people. Older women and men look like they want to spit on them, while younger men, look like they’d rather beat their heads in and the whole thing makes Niall’s anxiety even worse.

He looks over at Harry who’s got a strange sad look in his eyes.

Niall follows Harry’s gaze and realizes that Harry’s staring at the large cross at the front of the room. The way that the figure of Jesus looks stiff, but they both know what a man hanging by nails really looks like.

Niall tried not to think about that day. It was the first thing that sent him into an episode. The day they were trapped in that little two-story house, surrounded, with Hemmings bleeding out. They’d gotten cut off from the rest of their unit during an ambush and took shelter in an abandoned and half-destroyed building.

_There were thirteen of them. Harry, Liam, Louis, and Niall included. They had to barricade the entrances quickly and quietly so the enemy wouldn’t know where they were. They all sat quietly on the second floor, while one person sat on the stairs to keep watch on the ground floor. For most of the night, while they waited, that person was Harry, who couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried. He felt like they were going to be found out at any moment._

_They didn’t have much for provisions and command didn’t know when it would be safe enough to send in back up to get them out of there. So, they sat there silently waiting for something—anything—to happen._

_The U.S. unit that they were working with on the mission lost two men…men that their unit wanted to bring back, but were cut off before they could get to the bodies._

_They stuffed a rag into Hemmings’ mouth to shut him up while they waited for back up. He wouldn’t stop screaming for what felt like hours for them but was only seconds._

_He’d been shot twice. Once in the leg and once in the stomach. They didn’t have a medic with them and Louis was the one that patched him up as best he could._

_It was torture for all of them._

_Harry could tell that the silence was getting to Niall, who hated the quiet._

_Niall sat in the corner for a long while, staring blankly ahead, before Louis asked him if he’d sit with Hemmings and keep him calm._

_Louis did it for both Hemmings’ and Niall’s sake. He wanted to get out of there with all his men._

_By morning, they could hear shots off in the distance and the radio broke silence for the first time in hours to tell them that reinforcements were coming._

_By the time the area was cleared, and the men emerged from the derelict building, they all seemed different. Like they’d aged years in one night._

_They marched back to where the Humvees were located a few blocks away from where they were stopped by a barricade._

_The unit stopped dead in their tracks when they saw them._

_The two American soldiers nailed by their hands and feet, hanging—sagging—from a half-destroyed wall, like a warning to the rest of them._

_They didn’t hang stiff like the likeness of Jesus on the cross. They slumped and bled profusely down the wall. The streaks of blood pooled at the bottom and seeped into the dirt._

None of them ever got that image out of their heads. Even as they watched the two men be taken down and cared for by their fellow soldiers, that image would haunt each and every one of them for months until something worse came along and joined the image in their minds.

Harry never blamed Niall for going into an episode at the thought of that mission. He’d had nightmares about it too and sometimes it changed. He’d see Niall or sometimes Louis or Liam nailed to the wall, mutilated and almost beyond recognition.

But now, seeing the look on Harry’s face as he stared at Jesus on the cross, Niall couldn’t help but reach out and take Harry’s hand to snap him out of what he was thinking about.

Harry blinks and looks down at Niall’s hand in his before he looks at Niall.

They share a knowing look and Niall’s eyes beg Harry not to think about that mission. Not right now…that it won’t do him any good to put his mind back in those moments.

Harry gives a light nod and takes a deep breath, and Niall slowly retracts his hand. He doesn’t want any unwanted stares from the people around them right now. Neither of them needs that.

Pastor Roth starts the service.

The standing up and sitting down is doing Niall’s leg no favors and at one point he reaches out for Harry, who helps him up and gives him a concerned look, but Niall waves him off. He doesn’t want to attract any attention by not standing when asked to.

He wants to get through this both for himself and Harry. He needs to. They’ve been through so much and Niall doesn’t want to give in and let any of what they’ve had happen to them affect this moment. This moment where he and Harry are doing something normal and getting back to any semblance of who they used to be.

Niall finds himself staring at the stain glass window while Pastor Roth recites the story of Jesus’ birth.  It reminds him of when they were younger, and he used to go with Anne, Gemma, and Harry to this service. He and Harry used to try to make each other laugh and cause a ruckus while the rest of the people in attendance would be singing merrily along to Christmas songs.

Pastor Roth’s prayers send shivers down Niall’s spine whenever the entire church of people would speak same words in the same monotone voice at the same time. It aggravated something deep within Niall.  Making him feel uneasy.

They’re told to stand again and Niall winces at the pain in his leg, having to pull himself up by the back of the pew in front of them.

Harry notices, and places a steady hand at the small of Niall’s back.

It’s the only comfort Niall has until they can sit again.

And that’s when the choir starts singing Silent Night near the end of the service. It strikes Niall and he can’t help when the tears surface in his eyes.

As they sit there listening, Niall’s wander back to Jesus on the cross. He’d been avoiding it for most of the evening, but the song almost demanded that he look at it and remember those two men.

A darkness boils in the pit of Niall’s stomach. It rolls and spreads further upward toward his heart and lungs, before it creeps into the base of his skull.

“Harry…” Niall mutters softly.

Harry looks over at Niall whose hands are gripping the edge of his seat so tightly that his knuckles have gone white.

He feels like he can’t breathe. As if something heavy is sitting on his chest trying to suffocate him.

“I can’t…”

“ _Radiant beams from Thy holy face—With dawn of redeeming grace—Jesus Lord, at Thy birth…”_

The choir continues the song and Harry can see the panic rise in Niall’s eyes.

_“Jesus Lord, at Thy birth…”_

Harry stands, bringing attention to both of them and quickly helps Niall stand, but Niall’s leg hurt so much that he almost falls over when they get out into the aisle.

People are staring at them as Niall mutters unintelligibly while Harry puts Niall’s arm over his shoulders to help him out into the main lobby.

Harry knows the bathrooms are to the left, but they don’t make it that far.

Niall pushes Harry away and he slams against the wall, his legs giving out under his weight and Niall slumps to the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Niall blurts out, putting his hand up so that Harry will stay away.

Niall’s spiraling. He can’t get the image of those two soldiers out of his head. How he and the rest of his unit sat silent and unknowing on the second floor of that building while those two men were nailed to a wall for all to see.

_He worried that they wouldn’t make it out of there. That the barricade wouldn’t hold, and they’d be found and killed. He knew Harry was on watch for most of the night and he’d be the first to be shot or blown up before the hostiles stormed the structure and got to the rest of them. Not to mention that Hemmings was bleeding out and half conscious.  It was one of the first times, in the entire time they were there that Niall really thought they wouldn’t survive. He didn’t want to be there anymore. To feel like there was nothing they could do if they were found. He promised himself that once he got out, he’d be done. He’d never go back to war and he’d live the rest of his life with Harry._

_He just wanted to survive._

“Niall,” Harry’s voice touches him.

_He chewed his nails bloody, sitting there waiting out the night. He could barely see Harry from where he sat on the steps as lookout. But he kept his eyes trained there for most of the night._

_It wasn’t until morning finally came and they heard gun shots in the distance that any of them moved. When the reinforcements came in and they could finally move the barricade and walk out into the bright sunlight._

“Niall, come back to me,” Harry whispers.

_The bright light burst out into a brilliant white and after running back toward the Humvees, they saw the men nailed to the wall. Hanging there, bloody with flies buzzing and crawling over them._

“Come back to me…”

_Niall stopped dead in his tracks staring at the men, but then Harry stood in front of him, eyes worried, and Harry simply shook his head asking Niall not to look._

_Niall fell against Harry’s chest and Harry held him. They were tired, hungry and dehydrated, and Niall couldn’t keep going. But Harry held onto him, before he managed to get Niall safely back to the Humvees, where even then, Harry didn’t leave his side._

“It’s okay…just come back to me,” Harry’s voice came through.

Niall opens his eyes and he immediately sees people, staring at him; some with looks of horror, some worry, and others had a devilish look about them.

“Don’t look at them,” Harry’s voice was so close. “Just look at me…don’t think about them.”

That’s when Niall realizes that he’s not just lying on the floor, but that his head is resting on Harry’s chest.

Harry’s arms are wrapped around him and his hand goes to Niall’s cheek tilting his head so that Niall was looking into Harry’s eyes. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

“Harry…” Niall’s voice is raw and to be honest, he doesn’t really know what happened.

He remembers falling to the floor, but beyond that, he doesn’t remember Harry getting on the floor and holding him, he doesn’t remember when the people showed up and started gawking at him like he was an exhibit at the circus.

God, Niall just wanted to disappear in that moment. The only comfort he had was the steady rhythm of Harry’s heartbeat.

Pastor Roth comes out and looks at Harry, but Niall’s just staring straight ahead, pushing everything out of his mind that isn’t Harry’s heartbeat.

Roth quickly ushers the people away from the scene getting them back into the chapel to use the side door to exit rather than the front.

Harry leans his head back and his hits the wall with a thud before he closes his eyes and sighs, still holding Niall against his chest.

When everyone is out of the lobby, Harry lets go of Niall, reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone.

He types out a quick message and tosses the phone on the floor next to him before his hand rests back on Niall.

He can still feel Niall shaking slightly on top of him. He’s curled up against Harry’s chest, taking Harry’s shirt in his fist like he’s afraid he’ll float away.  Harry sits there and just holds Niall.

Pastor Roth comes out and sets a water bottle next to Harry asking as quietly as possible if there’s anything he can do, but Harry just shakes his head and mouths that he’s sorry.

Harry always liked Pastor Roth. He was a kind man that didn’t care that Harry and Niall were together.

Minutes pass, but neither of them move. Not even when Bressie comes in the front door with Niall’s wheelchair.

Though to Harry’s surprise, Louis and Liam are with him, trailing closely behind.

Bressie just looks at Niall curled up in Harry’s lap and he can’t help the sad look that comes across his face.

Niall was like a little brother to Bressie and he didn’t give Niall the benefit of the doubt when all this happened. Bressie was protective of Harry, especially with Harry’s potential suicide attempt. He wasn’t there for Niall, though, and Niall had actually tried to kill himself. But now, looking at him curled up on the floor of the lobby of the church, Bressie’s guard dropped almost immediately.

Bressie walks around them so that he can actually see Niall’s face. He kneels down beside them and puts his hand on Niall’s shoulder, which is the first time that Niall’s moved in a while, when he looks at Bressie.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Bressie says softly with a smile pulling at his lips and Niall just nods and lifts his head off Harry’s chest.

Liam and Bressie help get Niall off the floor and into the wheelchair while Louis follows Harry back into the chapel to get their coats and what not.

“Is he okay?” Louis asks quietly.

Harry reaches for his and Niall’s coats. “He will be...” Harry says, and he turns and looks at Jesus hanging from the cross and Louis follows his gaze.

“I can still see their faces,” Louis admits.

Harry looks at him curiously.

“I didn’t say anything…not even to Liam, and you guys had enough issues.” Louis looks down at the floor and rubs the back of his neck. “There are just certain things that you just can’t forget, I guess.”

Harry’s eyes flicker back to the cross and then he slings the coats over his arm and grabs Niall’s paddy cap. He starts back down the aisle.

“Harry…” Louis starts and Harry stops in his tracks. “Whatever it was that had you at the viaduct that day…you don’t have to tell me…you don’t have to tell me anything, but I just want you to know that I’m happy you came back.” Louis pauses. “I still blame myself for Clifford, Hemmings getting hit, Niall—even those Americans…I can’t help it, but you…I felt like I saw it coming a mile away and I didn’t do enough to help you.” Louis licks his lips. “For that I’m sorry, Harry. I love you. You’re one of my best friends and I can’t lose you. It’d kill me if I lost you.”

Harry sets the coats down on the pew, walks over and wraps his arms around Louis. “I love you too, Lou.”  Harry pulls back. “We should get back out there,” Harry says and when Louis looks up at him, he smiles. “We’re gonna be alright.”

Harry picks up the coats and Louis follows him out to the lobby, where to Harry’s surprise, Liam has Niall smiling, which in turn, is making Bressie crack a smile as well.

Luckily, there’s a ramp in the front of the church and Bressie wheels Niall down to the car and they all climb in and head back to the house.

Louis tells about how they were at the pub with Bressie when Harry texted Brez about getting the wheelchair and coming to the church.  None of them felt very much like going home for Christmas this year.

Niall is still quiet in the backseat where he sits next to Harry.

Harry’s thankful that Liam and Louis are there. Even if it is just to get Niall to smile for a moment.  They’d all been so out of sorts for so long that it felt almost unnatural for all of them to be together like this, even if the reason wasn’t a good one.

They get to the house and Bressie gets Niall to bed in Harry’s room, per Harry’s request. His leg is still bothering him and Bressie helps him get comfortable before he goes back out to the living room where Louis, Liam, and Harry make themselves comfortable.

None of them say anything and when Harry gets up saying that he’s going to go to bed, the rest of them don’t move.

“You lads don’t have to stay here. We’ll be fine,” Harry says quietly.

They left Harry’s bedroom door cracked open in case Niall woke up and needed help, so they have to be quiet.

“You boys have been saying that for months,” Bressie counters.

“Yeah,” Liam chimes in.

“You don’t have to just be fine, mate,” Louis says next. “Tomorrow’s Christmas and it’s been a while since we had one of those together. We’re staying,” Louis says with finality.

Harry’s too tired to argue. Not that he’d argue anyway. He’s misses his friends. Between figuring out medication doses and going to therapy sessions now twice a week, he hasn’t felt like being around his friends, mostly because he doesn’t want them asking questions to things that he’s not ready to answer.

“You know where the extra pillows and blankets are,” Harry says, gesturing to the hall closet.

Their faces light up and Harry can’t help the smile that comes across when he walks down the hall to the back bedroom since Niall’s in his bed.

He changes out of his clothes and puts on one of Niall’s t-shirts and leaves his boxers on and climbs into bed.

He doesn’t know how Niall’s slept in this bed for so long. It’s not all that comfortable. He turns over on his side so he’s staring at the wall. He’d give up so much just for Niall to never have another episode. For Niall to go out in public and not worry about blacking out.

Harry feels guilty for bringing Niall. He thought it would be nice for them to be there together for the first time in a long time, not to mention that both of them needed to get out of the house. But he essentially put Niall through that. He should’ve thought about the cross and the images that would bring up from their past.

Harry rolls over again and he realizes that he’s already been lying in bed for over an hour. He can’t get his brain to shut off. He’s still worried about Niall.

He sits up and gets out of bed. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he tiptoes down the hall and pauses in front of his ajar bedroom door. He looks over at the three men asleep in their living room. Louis’ on the couch, Liam’s on the floor, and Bressie’s going to regret falling asleep in that chair.

Harry pushes the door open and sneaks in, closing the door enough that just a little streak of light comes in from the front room is the reflection of the moon coming through the front windows.

Harry’s can’t help but smile when he sees that Niall is sleeping on what used to be Niall’s side of the bed.  Harry quietly walks to his side and pulls up the covers and climbs into bed with Niall.

He doesn’t touch him. He doesn’t want to startle Niall and he seemed like he was asleep. Well, at least Harry thought he was asleep until Niall rolls over and throws his arm over Harry’s torso and snuggles into Harry’s side.

“’m sorry for everything,” Niall mumbles into the material of Harry’s t-shirt.

“Me too,” Harry replies. He puts his arm around Niall and he can tell that Niall is crying with the slight shake in Niall’s body, which in turn, makes Harry start to cry too and he holds Niall even closer until they both fall asleep.

 

Harry wakes up and he looks down to realize that Niall is still at his side, but as soon as Harry moves, Niall wakes up. He buries his face into Harry’s shirt and then stops.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Niall mumbles into Harry’s chest, but it vibration tickles, making Harry laugh. Niall tilts his head so he can look at Harry. “Looks good on you…”

Butterflies erupt in Harry’s stomach. The look in Niall’s eyes is Niall. It’s the Niall he remembers falling in love with.

“I should check on the lads,” Harry says as he slips out from underneath Niall.

“The lads?” Niall questions.

For some reason, when Harry looks back at Niall, it’s the first time he realizes that Niall’s not wearing a shirt. “Uh, yeah…” Harry tries to look anywhere but Niall’s bare skin. “Louis, Liam, and Bressie stayed over last night.”

Niall sits up in bed. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

When Harry looks at him, Niall doesn’t look upset but instead he seems happy at the thought of his friends sticking around.

The scars running down Niall’s left side stand out against the paleness of his skin.  Harry stopped noticing the one on Niall’s face and only really remembered when he sees pictures of Niall before he was wounded. He always wants to call it an accident in his head—what happened to Niall, but in all actuality, someone intentionally tried to blow Niall up. It’d be considered attempted murder if it didn’t happen during a war.

Harry notices that the door to the bedroom is closed when he goes to open it. He pauses for a moment before he proceeds with his initial plan of sneaking back into the other bedroom, so the other boys wouldn’t know he was in the room with Niall. But when he opens the door, Louis, Liam, and Bressie look at him, smiling from the kitchen where they are mixing up breakfast.

The other shocking thing is that the entire living room is covered in Christmas decorations. There’s a small four-foot pine tree that Harry recognizes from the corner of the pub he decorated at the beginning of December. There is garland and ornaments hung all around, with paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.

Tears start filling Harry’s eyes and then the distinct sound of Niall’s crutches hitting the carpeted floor comes up behind him. Harry looks to his side and sees the tears building up in Niall’s eyes as well.

“Do you like it?” Liam asks hesitantly.

“It’s perfect,” Harry smiles.

Bressie, Liam, and Louis finish making breakfast as well as tea, and let Harry and Niall sit in the living room, checking out the decorations.

“I didn’t think that making paper snowflakes was something we learned in the Army,” Niall says.

Louis scoffs from the kitchen. “That’s really what they teach you when you become a sergeant. The art of snowflake cutting.”

The rest of the boys laugh.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Louis retorts. “I’d like to see you lot do any better. Ya bunch of wankers.”

They eat breakfast in the living room and talk about all the things they missed in each other’s lives. Louis working at the bank and watching one of the tellers scream at the manager at the end of a long day. Liam talking about looking for a new job that isn’t such a long commute and how he’s already applied to a few places and feels hopeful.

Bressie’s been thinking about opening another Camden Pub somewhere else. He has the savings for it and he might be ready for a change in scenery, at least every once in a while. He knows he doesn’t want to just close the pub and move on somewhere else. There are still people that depend on their jobs at the pub to make a living and he can’t just walk away from them.

Harry enjoys the day because it’s the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel trapped inside his own head and he thinks Niall feels the same way. 

Nick shows up at the front door around noon just to say Happy Christmas to Harry, but he ends up staying for the rest of the day.  Harry doesn’t want to push Nick away anymore. He tries keeping him at arm’s length to keep Nick safe from everything going and so Nick wouldn’t ask any questions.

They’d all neglected each other as friends for so long and it felt like the best possible moment to hit the reset button.

One day won’t fix everything. Harry still gets antsy and Niall gets quiet part of the way through the day, but they don’t want the others to leave.

While Bressie handles cooking dinner, Niall disappears into the back bedroom and Harry accidentally finds him, while wanting a minute to himself.

Niall is sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t put his prosthetic on at all, since his stump was bothering him, so he stuck to his crutches and the wheelchair. But Niall looks sad the way he sits there slumped over on the bed with his crutches resting next to him.

“It’s all a bit much,” Niall says when Harry walks in. “I don’t understand how I used to have so much energy when people were around and now I feel like it just sucks the life out of me or something.”

Harry closes the door, goes over and sits beside Niall. “I guess we just take it one step at a time…” As soon as he says it, Harry realizes he could’ve chosen better words but when he looks at Niall, the Irishman has a smile pulling at his lips.

“You really had to go there?” Niall laughs. “It’s Christmas, Harry. Give me a break…geez.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Harry squeaks out.

“I know what you mean, though,” Niall says in a more serious tone. “Last night was…I don’t even know, actually.”

“We can’t be together right now,” Harry blurts out. He doesn’t mean to say it, but it’s been on his mind all day. “I mean, neither of us should be in any sort of relationship right now. There’s a lot of things I haven’t come to terms with and the same goes for you. I know it and I think you do, too.” Harry looks at Niall and he hates the touch of sadness in Niall’s eye right now.  “I think we need to be a little selfish and just take care of ourselves for a little while.”

“You’re right,” Niall replies. “But I don’t want to be away from you either,” he admits. “I know that seems selfish, but even at your worst, you were always the best part of me…you’re still my best friend. A ring never changed that fact,” Niall says, and he points to the small lump under the material of Harry’s shirt.

Harry pulls the chain so that his ID tags and the engagement ring sit on top of his shirt. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“I asked you not to take it off, and I guess there was a piece of me that was surprised to find out that you didn’t.” Niall looks from the ring to his hands resting in his lap. “I’ll always love you, Harry. And whether or not we get to be in love again is still yet to be determined, but I knew from the moment I met you that I’d want to spend the rest of my life with you. And if that means just being friends; supporting, caring, and loving each other, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Harry thinks about it for a moment and his hand instinctually comes up to hold the ring dangling from his neck. “I’m good with that.”

They smile at each other and Harry shoves the ring and ID tags back under his shirt before he helps Niall off the bed.

They go back out just as Bressie is putting the roast on the counter. None of the boys look at them, but faint yet cheeky smiles attempt to undermine their calm exteriors at seeing their close friends standing beside one another again.

There’s so much that Harry wants to say to the others in the quiet moments throughout the day.  He really does want to move on from everything that’s happened over the last couple years and he knows that starts with telling his friends and family about the rape, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell them. He doesn’t know how to bring it up. He doesn’t want them to look at him differently.

He sees the way they all look at Niall. They were all scarred by him in some way.  The different sides of Niall that have shown themselves since he was wounded sit in their minds as if they could come out at any moment. They’ve seen Niall be angry and violent; scared, hopeless, happy…it’s all there and Harry can’t have his friends look at him any differently. Not when he’s just getting them back.

After Louis, Liam, Bressie, and Nick leave around eleven p.m., Niall and Harry sit in the living room. It’s quiet and there’s still Christmas music playing softly from the stereo, though they were careful to skip “Silent Night” for most of the evening.

“Do think we’ll ever get back to the way we were?” Niall asks. He’s slouched on the couch with his head resting against the back cushion. “I’m mean like, not you and me, but more like the people we used to be. Where being around people doesn’t suck the life out of you. Where we can go out without worrying about having an episode. That type of thing.”

Harry looks at Niall, thinking about how he used to be, back when Niall was blond, carefree, and most importantly, happy. It hurts Harry how much of that Niall’s been washed away, because when he looks at Niall, he hardly sees any of who Niall used to be.

“I don’t know,” Harry says. “I think that we’ve gone a bit too far to really go back.”

Niall seems sad at Harry’s answer when he turns his head and starts staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s not a bad thing, Niall,” Harry tries to reassure him. “We might have been happy before and where we are right now kind of sucks, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be a different kind of happy later.”

Niall doesn’t move. He just continues to stare at the paper snowflake covered ceiling.

Harry’s about to get up, thinking the conversation is over when Niall finally speaks.

“We both ended up back here,” he says, turning his head to look at Harry.  “S’pose that’s got te mean something.  I always liked who I was when you were around.”

Harry looks back at Niall with softness in his eyes. And the Irishman is right, even after all that they’ve been through, they were back to living under the same roof and hoping that only the best will come for the other. They just wanted each other to be happy. Even if, for now, it’s just as friends. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
